


The Name

by bethkamren



Series: The Name Saga [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Awesome Padmé Amidala, BAMF Padmé Amidala, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Don't Have to Know Canon, F/M, Jedi Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, No Name, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Original Character, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala Needs a Hug, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Romance, new concepts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28732938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethkamren/pseuds/bethkamren
Summary: The girl had never known anything other than her life before. How else does she know how to live? What is she going to do with her life? She knew no answers to any possible questions. Not even the most simple one... what is your name?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Name Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106429
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read, I would just like to thank you for even considering reading this work. Please take into consideration that I am not a professional writer, only a lover of the craft. 
> 
> I wanted to add elements of Earth to the Star Wars universe, so things that you may have seen before are in this work. 
> 
> Thanks xx

**chapter 1**

I don’t know where I am. I can’t feel or see anything, except for darkness. But I hear just fine. Even with the lack of most of my senses, I can recognize the hum of a speeder bike zooming its way past.   
It didn’t keep going. The hum stopped. Footsteps making their way to where I am. 

My throat is really dry. I don’t know when the last time I had water was, but I’m assuming a long time ago. 

A voice. A deep, cracked voice. It’s a male voice, and most likely human.

He’s not speaking to me. I doubt he’s even registered my presence, but I’m hoping he will soon. 

I try to listen to what he’s saying, but a wave of fatigue, hunger, and thirst washes over me, and I become trapped inside of my own head. 

I can hear my stomach eating away at the lining, wanting for something to eat. I’ve been hungry for so long that I don’t feel it anymore, just the pain. Only pain. 

Pain is all I think about until a pair of strong, lean arms wrap themselves around me and lift me off of the ground. 

_What are you doing?! Put me down!! Where are you taking me?!_

He’s crying, I can tell. He lets go of me in one arm, and remains carrying me in the other. The only reason I can feel I’m being carried is because I know I need to be fully aware, and for now, I’ve sacrificed my hearing for feeling. It’s a struggle, giving up your senses for another. I can feel the starvation now. It’s awful. I’ve been starved my whole life, but this is on another level. 

I suppose I should be grateful. This unknown man is taking me to someplace different. Maybe I’ll be treated like a princess, waited on hand and foot. As if.

I remain in an arm for a while, but then I am placed in something harder than skin. It’s metal, I think. 

My body jolts forward, and I realize I’ve been placed in a speeder. I’m more curious than ever. 

My head has been wrapped in rags, but they loosen slightly in the wind. I can’t see Jawa shit, but my face is relieved from the pressure of rough fabric. 

I ride in the speeder for a while.

During said ride, it becomes clearer that the suns are rising. The heat is astounding. I’ve been stuck inside so long that my body, in turn, hasn’t felt the suns heat in quite some time. If I could see my hair, I bet it’s darkened slightly. 

I enjoy the heat, though. Nothing compares to the cold. The cold takes away everything you have and there’s nothing left but you. 

I hate the cold.

My eyes are open. I’m scared to close them. If I close them, my mind is allowed to run rampant with whatever nightmarish scenarios it wants. I don’t want it to do that. 

I can’t help it. _I’ll just close them for a few seconds. I mean, I’m so tired._

Surprisingly, nothing happens when I close my eyes. It’s probably the worst time to be sleeping, but I’ll settle for it. 

~

I’m awoken by a gentle hand unwrapping my head. I’ve learned, however, to not open your eyes when you find yourself awake. Slowly, just to suss out the surroundings, I open my eyes. I want to make sure I’m not in danger before I decide to make a run for it. 

It’s two human women and one human man. The woman closest to me has warm brown eyes and tight brown coils. The woman farthest from me has blond hair separated into two buns. Both of them are beautiful, but they have a shocked expression on their face. 

I close my eyes, my head tilting out of fatigue. I wish I could say this was an act, but it’s not. 

Currently, I’m laying down on a flat surface. Some sort of table, because there’s more than enough room for my body. I have a strong feeling I’m still on Tatooine, because I can smell the sand in the air. One good thing about having your face wrapped is the sand gets filtered out. 

“Can you hear me?” said the brown-eyed woman. 

I trust this woman, so I nod yes. My eyes remain closed, but I feel a cool sensation against my cheek. It’s a damp cloth, I’m assuming, being used to clean my face. 

I don’t trust men. They’re disgusting creatures, so full of menace and disturbing thoughts. 

So the fact that the majority of the people that surround me are women makes me feel safe. Even if I may not be yet. 

“Are you alright?” 

I nod yes. Maybe if they think I’m fine, they’ll let me go. 

“I wouldn’t lie to the people that are trying to help you,” the brown-eyed woman remarked. Though her voice is soft and even, I can detect her emotions by her tone. 

_She’s trying to help me._

My body trembling, I nod. I have no idea if I’m hurt or not, but if they’re going to help me, I should probably figure out where I’m hurt. 

_I should give them something in return._

As soon as I’m healed and rested, I’ll repair whatever needs repairing. And if nothing needs repairing… I’m not good at much. The things I am good at, there’s always someone else doing it instead. 

I hear footsteps. _Someone else is here_. I remember the man who had taken me, and I remember the man who was standing next to me. Was that him? It didn’t seem like him, at least assuming from their builds. The arms that I had felt were strong and lean, and the man next to me was stocky. Not overweight, but stocky nonetheless. 

Suddenly, I feel the need to sit up. I feel someone new looking at me, and my curiosity gets the better of me as I crack open my eyes. 

He’s tall, that’s for sure. The tallest one in the room, because he towers over the blond woman and the other man. He’s not quite a man yet though, as his features are in the process of sharpening completely. He looks around my age, if I had to guess. His skin is perfectly sun-kissed, and his hair is a deep golden blond. He’s handsome. 

And he’s looking at me with an expression I can’t name, one like a melting pot of emotions. His eyes display anger, surprise, and loss all at the same time. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure. I can’t tell how long he’s been looking at me like that.

I attempt to sit up, and while I do it successfully, I find myself gasping in pain. The brown-eyed woman places her arm on the small of my back to support me. 

Surprisingly, my pain is manageable. In fact, the more I move my body, the less prevalent it becomes. 

I’m going to walk, I’ve decided. I swivel my body slowly so I can place my feet firmly on the ground. 

Aha! I’ve done it. Now all that’s left is to actually stand up and walk. Out of the corner of my eye I see the boy working his way to me, as if I’m about to pull out a knife and kill everyone in the room. 

He’s careful. He doesn’t know if he can trust me yet, which I understand. To his merit, I don’t trust him either. 

“Where are you going?” The brown-eyed woman asks, a hint of worry plaguing her soft voice. She’s concerned for me. If I had the energy to laugh, I would. I can handle myself. 

Apparently I can’t at the moment, because as soon as I stand up, I collapse. The brown-eyed woman goes to pick me up, but the boy’s faster. He scoops me up with ease, and places me back on the table. 

He’s about to ask me a question, I know it. _Who are you?_ I’ve refrained from speaking as of yet, because you can tell everything about a person by their voice. But as soon as he does ask me a question, I’ve got my answer. 

I’m no one. 

“Where are you trying to go?” The boy asks, his voice deep but crackly. 

I open my mouth to speak but instead nothing comes out. I forgot that I haven’t even seen water in ages. My throat aches from the exertion of attempting to speak, and I clutch it in reflex. 

Immediately, the other woman leaves swiftly. She returns, but with a pitcher. 

_Water._

Instead of pouring into a glass for me to drink from, she hands the pitcher to the brown-eyed woman and in turn, she moves to pour it into my mouth. 

Despite my better judgement, I drink it. These people could be trying to poison me, drug me. There’s tons of poisons and drugs that are tasteless, colorless, odorless. 

I drink. And I drink. My throat is soothed by the river of water coming down into my belly. 

When I’m done, I place the pitcher down. Anxiously, I look at everyone’s faces, searching for any ill intent. I don’t find any. 

“I’m Padmé,” the brown-eyed woman offers. “If that makes you feel any better.” 

“And I’m Beru,” the blond woman goes. “This is Owen,” she says, pointing to the man standing next to her. 

They’re all from different planets, I can tell that. Owen and Beru are most likely from Tatooine, while Padmé is definitely from somewhere else. While her name is slightly outlandish, her skin also definitely isn’t used to the harsh Tatooine suns yet. 

The boy. I still don’t know his name. 

After receiving a glare from Padmé, he relents. 

“My name is Anakin.” 

  
  
  


_Anakin Skywalker, after burying his mother, came downstairs to a surprise._

_Tears were still rolling down his face, and his anger was still fresh and raw, but nothing could have prepared him for what came next._

_The first thing he saw was her face. She looked calm, at peace. Despite how dirty she was, she was beautiful. Despite how dirty she was, she was pure._

_He was taken aback. The figure he had rescued from the Tusken Raiders was fragile, weak. The figure he was looking at now was strong. Confident._

_To be quite honest, Anakin had never seen anything as beautiful as the creature laying before him._

_Her hair was long, below her elbows for sure. She had a heart-shaped face and a sharp jawline. Her lips were full, puckered to perfection. Her eyebrows were shaped, her lashes dark and long. Her complexion was clear and bright, and she had the tiniest bit of red tinting her cheekbones and leading across her nose. Her features fit together perfectly, like an intricate puzzle that was put together by the Force itself. She was a pretty girl._

_And that made him melancholy. Because although he had managed to block out the memories of this dreaded planet for the most part, Anakin Skywalker knew exactly what happened to pretty girls on Tatooine._

_Lost in his thoughts, Anakin found the pretty girl looking right back up at him._


	2. The Grave

**chapter 2**

I maintain silence while Padmé and Beru scramble to find clothes for me. I consider sneaking away, but Anakin is watching me closely.

After a while, though, even he goes away. 

_ Now’s your chance. _

I’ve gotten enough to eat and drink that I’m able to walk, so I take advantage of that to the furthest extent. 

I’ve maintained all my muscle, so I’m relatively quick and agile. The tattered clothes I am wearing aren’t bright colors, so they help me not to stand out. 

Heading up the stairs to hopefully see where I am, I feel someone grab me by the arm. They’re gripping me so tightly that I might expect my arm to break, if it weren’t for my natural reflex to force them to let go of me. 

It’s relatively easy to force someone to release you, but you have to underestimate yourself. You have to always assume that the person opposing you is stronger, so that you don’t get overconfident. 

I squeeze the wrist that’s wrapped itself around my arm and it releases. 

_ Thank the heavens.  _

I would have the chance to fully escape if it weren’t for the arm fully around my waist now. 

I writhe and attempt to release myself, but the person holding me isn’t budging. 

“Where are you going?” Anakin says, his breathing shallow. He’s crying again. I still haven’t had the chance to figure out why he was crying earlier, but all I know is that he’s probably crying for the same reason.

I sigh. I feel bad for this boy. 

I attempt to turn my body so I can look him in the face, and his grip loosens. 

“Away,” I whisper. My throat, still not fully healed, can only produce soft noises at the moment. 

His eyes display pain, a kind of pain I know only too well. 

Loss. 

“You can’t.”

Those two words take me aback. What does he mean I can’t?

“Why?”

Anakin fully lets go of me, and I fall down onto the hard steps. 

“Because I promised someone that I would protect you,” he says. He sits down on the steps below me, and places his head between his hands. 

“Who?” There’s a hundred people who would have interests in keeping me alive, all for different reasons. To sell me, to enslave me, to control me. 

Sighing, Anakin looks back up at me. “My mother. I promised my mother.” His voice was bitter, and he was getting louder and louder. 

I look down at my hands, which are, of course, dirty. 

“Do you speak more than three words?” 

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Padmé come down the stairs with a pile of clothes in her arms. 

“What’s your name?”

There’s one thing about Tatooine that I hate most. When they desperately need to control you, to possess you, they take away everything that makes you  _ you.  _ Your clothes, your personality, your identity.

“I don’t have a name,” I admit. “Slaves don’t get names.”

Anakin flinches, a struck look on his face. 

“What do you mean?” He’s confused. “Everyone has a name.”

“I don’t,” I retort. 

“I thought slaves got names,” he says. 

“Maybe men do, but women don’t.” I feel the need to roll my eyes, but it’s not the right time to be sassy. “It’s different for women. They’re not just slaves. They’re wives to-be. They’re possessions of a completely different manner. It’s just… different.

“But no, I don’t have a name.” 

Maybe a long time ago, I did have a name. Maybe it fit me so well that you began to associate me with the word. I was no longer my name, my name was me. Maybe it had a deep meaning in an ancient language. Maybe it meant “flower” or “little girl,” but I made it mean something entirely different. Maybe my mother and father took ten days to name me, or maybe it took one look at my newborn face to know exactly what my name was. Maybe my name was so ingrained in me that it couldn’t be possible for me to have any other name. 

I have no name. It used to be sad, a tragedy, but now it’s just reality. I have no name because I am no one. Because I’m not allowed to be anyone. 

Anakin, defeated, scoffs. “I have to call you something. What if it’s a life-threatening emergency, and I don’t know how to get your attention? What am I supposed to do then?” 

He’s joking. I hope he’s joking, but the look on his face says otherwise. 

I laugh, hoping to make it a joke.

_ He doesn’t actually think I’m going to stay right? _

_ Am I going to stay? _

_ No, I have to leave. Leave while I still can. _

I don’t want him to cry, so I attempt to comfort him. “Just yell at me. I’m pretty aware, so I’ll definitely hear you. Or throw something at me.”

This stranger, this person who I don’t know at all, looks at me ardently. Passionately. 

I get time to look at him in depth. Look at his features. 

I don’t take the opportunity, instead asking about something that appeared in the back of my mind. 

_ “My mother.” _

Violent, awful images fill my head. 

His mother.

Why would his mother make him promise to protect me? 

Did she want something from me? Did I owe her something?  
No, no, if I owed her something it wouldn’t be “protect,” it would be “kidnap,” “torture.” 

Who  _ is  _ his mother? 

Do I know her somehow? 

I know a lot of women on Tatooine. 

I don’t think she’s a slave, considering this place is most likely where she lives. 

The best course of action is just to ask where she is. Find out her intentions, then thank her for doing what she did. 

_ Why would someone go to that many lengths just to save  _ me _? _

“Where is, um, your mother?”

A brief look of pain strikes across Anakin’s face. Somehow, someway, my words hurt him. 

“I’ll show you.” 

~

It’s a fucking grave. 

Anakin stands there awkwardly, facing away from me in an attempt to hide his tears.   
On the gravestone lies...

_ Shmi Skywalker. _

I knew Shmi Skywalker. Before I got taken, she would come to where I was kept and trade me food for jewelry. I found that after a while, she had begun slipping food in nooks and crannies for me to find.

She was kind to me. Kinder than anyone else on this fucking planet, and now she’s dead. 

It’s funny how the universe decides to kill off the only truly good people, while keeping scumbags like my owner alive. 

It’s unfair.

Anakin, apparently done crying, turns to face me and looks towards the suns. 

I squat down near the gravestone and gently place my hand over the title. 

“How?”

I don’t necessarily want to know how she died, but I need to.

He’s on the verge of tears, but I can see him about to spurt out an answer anyways. “Tusken raiders. They tied her up right across from you, and then whipped her until she could barely breathe.” 

I feel myself about to cry. I can’t cry in front of someone I barely know. I stuff it in, knowing that at some point I’ll have to cry. 

Sand blows straight into my face, which aids in pushing down my feelings, as it serves as a distractant. I stand up, now aware that someone else is standing near the grave. 

Padmé, holding a set of white clothes, nods in my direction. “I have some clean clothes for you. Come on, we’ll help clean you off.” 

I can’t refuse clean clothes and a bath. Both things I need desperately, so I have no choice but to go with Padmé and let her help me, even though that’s not what I want.

I stand there deliberating for about fifteen seconds before I hear a “hey.” 

I turn my body, facing Anakin. 

“We’ll get you out of here,” he says. I descend down the steps with Padmé’s arm around my shoulder.

~

Out of all the people to have rescued me, I’m lucky to have what I have. Padmé is strategic and compassionate, and Beru is thoughtful and meticulous. 

Although she offers, I turn Beru down when it comes time to wash me off. I still have enough mobility to do that myself. 

I scrub my entire body with a washcloth and drown myself in soap and water. The soap Beru handed to me is hard when dry, but becomes putty-like when in contact with water. It smells pleasant, like something I’ve smelled before but I can’t quite distinguish what. It leaves my skin and hair slightly scented, which I appreciate. 

When I’m done, I can’t help but to just stare at the outfit laid in front of me. I have no idea how to put it on. 

“I’ll help you,” I hear from behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.” 

The towel wrapped so tightly around my body becomes a little bit looser as I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

Padmé points, her hand remaining on my bare, slightly damp shoulder. “Put those on first.” She turns her back to me, and I do as she says. They’re undergarments of some sort, but I’m not used to wearing them. They smell clean, like Padmé does. 

“Ok,” I murmur, the towel on the ground. 

She turns back around, pointing at a white top and white pants. “Now, put that on, and then that on.”

Instead of turning back around, she assists me in assembling the tightly-fit outfit. However, I sense someone lurking nearby, watching me. 

“I can do it now,” I remark, the shirt stuck right above my breasts. Padmé sighs, but obliges and leaves. I want to turn around to confront whoever is watching me, but I don’t want to give them the direct view of my breasts either. Although they can most likely see them in the reflection of the mirror in front of me, I don’t want them to feel embarrassed. The best I can do in this situation is to quickly put on my clothes and get on with life. 

I’m used to people looking at me. I’m used to people staring, ogling. It’s part of what I was. Whether it was naked or fully-clothed, I had to be looked at. How else were they supposed to know they were getting their money’s worth? 

But this is different. It’s a different kind of heat on my back. It’s not creepy or malicious, but it’s intense nonetheless.

After I’m done putting on the outfit and assembling the various accessories (which I assume have a function, but at the moment don’t), I finally turn around to get a glimpse of my own personal stalker. 

A glimpse. That’s all I got. But it’s enough to let me know who it is. Where previously I haven’t been insecure, it’s enough to make me question myself. It’s enough to recognize the blond hair in an outlandish, odd hairstyle. It’s enough to recognize the awkward stature paired with a height that seems to reach the stars. It’s enough to recognize that the person staring at me was none other than my rescuer, Anakin Skywalker. 

I don’t want to know why. 

I walk out, only to find Padmé and Anakin in an intense conversation. They’re passive-aggressively fighting, but I have no reckoning as to why. Padmé is facing me, while Anakin has his back turned. When she sees me approaching, she gives me a worried look.  _ Should I be worried? _

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around to find Beru, who is holding a metal hairbrush. 

“Let me do your hair,” she says, guiding my shoulders to sit down. My hair, which has grown all the way down to my waist, is still moistened from being washed. Beru’s very gentle, but she’s detailed. She combs through my hair section by section, and I soon realize that she’s using a dryer brush. I feel the warmth on my scalp, and it’s soothing. My eyes drift shut, and I’m allowed to peacefully doze off, but I hear Padmé and Anakin speaking in hushed tones. They’re speaking so quietly, I can’t even hear syllables. 

When Beru’s done brushing my hair, she starts to style it, which she has more than enough material to do. I hear Padmé temporarily leave the conversation to instruct Beru on the correct hairstyle, then immediately go back to whispering. 

She does an intricate series of twists, then combines those twists into a bun at the top of my neck. She makes sure the part of my hair is directly down the middle with the tip of her nail and then smooths it out with her hands and some form of styling oil. 

The whispering stops, and I crack open my eyes.

Padmé, who is dressed in all grey, comes over to pull out strands of my hair around the side of my face. She smiles at me, and then sits down across from me. 

“Listen,” she says, her eyes expressing worry. “We’re going to take you out of here, if that’s what you want.” 

_ That  _ is  _ what I want. _

Her smile fades. “But, it might be dangerous, just for a little while. I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of danger, and I truly wish this wasn’t the case. There’s a whole lot of people in the galaxy who don’t like what I stand for, and they’ll do anything to make sure that I’m brought down.”

I nod. I should’ve known that she was a politician. The way she carries herself, the way she speaks with such command and authority. She doesn’t strike me as a fascist, like many people with power on this planet. 

“If you’re to come with us, then you should know of the possibilities. That’s all.” 

She’s talking about death. About being murdered. That doesn’t sound so bad, compared to other things. She could be suggesting torture, or slavery. Death seems the most peaceful option, so I’m prepared. I’ve wished for death before, and maybe this is the universe’s way of delivering what I asked for. 

Padmé sighs, then composes herself and stands up. “We should go… before anyone realizes we’re here.” 

I nod again, knowing that what lies ahead of me could be fatal. I follow her outside, but I’m stopped by Owen, who is standing next to another man, one who is handicapped and  _ not _ standing. 

He’s clutching a bag in his hands, made of some sort of silk. 

“She talked about you a lot,” Owen says. “She kept every single piece of jewelry you ever gave her, and kept them all in here. She knew how important they were to you, and she knew you would never take food for free. So she saved them, never wearing them, never touching them.” 

“They belong to you, since no one’s gonna wear them now.” 

He hands me the bag, and I can’t do anything else but keep my head down, walk away, and try not to cry. 

_ Anakin didn’t want to be creepy. So, he waited until she had some semblance of clothing on to make sure she was okay.  _

_ She was thinner than he expected. Malnourished is more the word to use, but oftentimes, the two correlate.  _

_ Her bones poked out from underneath her skin, and he could count her ribs one-by-one. There were remnants of curves once had in her hips and her thighs, but it was overshadowed by the bruises and marks all across her back. He knew they wouldn’t be permanent, that they would fade.  _

_ Normal boys Anakin’s age would be ecstatic at the sight of a near-naked girl like her. But it made him sick to his stomach. It shallowed his breathing, made his sight blurry.  _

_ He began to receive a glare from Padmé, who had finished instructing the girl on her wardrobe. It was funny, you see. He had had such an intense love for Padmé once, it was the only thing he ever thought about. But now, when he looked in her face, he only saw their relationship’s faults. And it’s safe to say that Padmé felt the same way.  _

_ “Don’t be creepy,” she murmured to him.  _

_ “I’m not,” he defended. “I didn’t look at her naked.”  _

_ “She’s pure, Ani,” Padmé remarked. “You can’t treat her like any other person.”  _

_ “You don’t think I know that?” Anakin retorted, his voice slightly raising. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl whip around, and dodged out of the way, shoving Padmé at the same time.  _

_ “Hey!” Padmé exclaimed.  _

_ “We have to take her with us, Padmé.”  _

_ “No, we can’t. Can you imagine the consequences if someone happens to realize we’re not where we’re supposed to be?” _

_ “What am I supposed to do? Was I just supposed to leave her there, with a rag wrapped around her face?” _

_ The girl came into view again, fully dressed this time. She was wearing one of Padmé’s outfits, a white ensemble that was most likely meant to be skin-tight on Padmé, but fit normally on her.  _

_ Before the girl could say anything, however, Beru emerged with a dryer brush and began to brush the girl’s hair.  _

_ “No, that’s not what I meant. What if someone tries to kill me again, and she gets hurt? You can’t account for that, Anakin.” _

_ Anakin thought. He debated in his head his options. He knew he had to protect the girl, above all. He didn’t want to leave her here. He wanted to take her somewhere she could flourish. She would flourish on Coruscant. And if she didn’t, she could find what place she would.  _

_ “Listen. She can be one of your handmaids, for the time being. If they happen to ask, that’s who she is and that’s why she’s with us. She doesn’t look like you enough to get mistaken for you either, so no one will try to assassinate her.” _

_ Padmé scoffed. “You don’t know that. What if she’s got a bounty on her head, what solution do you have for that?” _

_ “I’ll come up with a solution for that, too. If the time comes.”  _

_ “You know, you’re rather attached to a girl you’ve only just met, don’t you think?” _

_ “I’m not attached, ok? I can’t be. It’s impossible. I just want to keep the promise I made to my mother.”  _

_ He thought about that moment. How happy he was to see his mother, how enraged he was that she had been treated like this.  _

_ “I’m proud of you, Ani,” she had said. She had pointed across, to where a small, crumpled up creature was lying on the ground. “Save her. Take her,” she had said in a breathy, scratchy whisper. “Protect her, Ani. Promise me.”  _

_ And that was it. He had done as his mother had said. He exchanged the speeder bike for a larger, more heavy-duty speeder and picked up the body of the girl he would soon come to know.  _

_ “Well keep it then,” Padmé huffed. “But don’t unnecessarily endanger her in the process.”  _

_ “Padmé, please,” Anakin begged, his voice as quiet as he could make it.  _

_ “Fine,” she whispered.  _

_ Beru was done doing the girl’s hair. Padmé, like always, had to perfect it to her standards, so she went over and adjusted the hairstyle.  _

_ Anakin tuned out whatever Padmé was saying to the girl and thought of his happy place. It used to be Naboo, and the lake, but it was now in his mother’s arms. He decided he wasn’t going to cry.  _

_ Anakin turned his head just slightly, and found the girl looking at him with an intrigued expression on her face. And for the first time in his life, Anakin Skywalker found himself completely and totally calm. _


	3. The Factory

**chapter 3**

The ship is impressive. Its exterior is fully coated in chromium, which reflects all of the surroundings. I can see my own face as I board. 

I’m given no directions so I take a seat, which is much more comfortable than anything I’ve ever sat in. I want to sleep, to peacefully drift into slumber, but I know that as soon as I do I’m warranting conversations held behind my back. And I would like to be awake while they talk about me. 

Still, I don’t decline my body the opportunity of rest, even if it’s not complete and total. I curl my legs up to my chest and rest my chin gently on my knees. It’s not the most satisfying position, but it’ll do. Plus, the chair more than makes up for any uncomfort. 

Padmé tinkers with the controls on the ship, and I watch her as she does. If the time comes, I may need to pilot it, which I can’t do if I don’t know how to control it. Luckily, they’re pretty simple. It’s not a warship or a starfighter, but a ship designed purely for leisure and travel. 

Padmé’s brow furrows and her lips slightly part. 

“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my stress levels low. 

“Anakin,” Padmé calls, not quite shouting but not quite normal speaking either. 

Anakin, who had previously been hauling things onto the ship, came into the cockpit with a flustered look plastered over his face. Two droids, one of which I spotted earlier lying in a metal container taking an oil bath, follow behind him. 

“Anakin, Obi-Wan sent a correspondence,” Padmé says smoothly. Though I suspect she’s quite used to keeping her emotions in control, she’s not particularly good at doing it now. Her voice and posture is composed, but her face tells every emotion she’s feeling. Worry in her eyebrows, fear in her eyes, anxiety in the way her cheeks are pallid. 

“What does he say?” 

“Who’s Obi-Wan?” I interject, but it doesn’t seem to distract either Padmé or Anakin. 

“He’s my master,” Anakin answers nonchalantly, and then resumes waiting on Padmé for an answer.  _ Or so I thought. _

“I don’t know yet,” Padmé says, “let’s see.” 

What does he mean, his master? I have no doubt in my mind that he’s a person with free will, so why would he have a master? 

My question is answered by a hologram of a man that pops up right in front of me. The first thought to come to my head is that he’s a very attractive man. He’s got reddish-blond hair and a beard. He’s wearing strange robes that are similar to Anakin’s. For the first time in a while, I let myself get distracted by this man. 

He’s older than me. I don’t know by how much, but he’s certainly not younger than me. He’s wise, but not more than he should be for his age.   
I hear someone try to get my attention, and I look up and both Padmé and Anakin are displaying concerned expressions. 

Padmé, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, places her hands on my shoulders and leans in close. She’s so close I can smell her. She smells clean and fresh, like freshly-washed clothes. 

“Were you listening?” 

“No,” I respond. 

“It might take us a little longer to bring you somewhere safe,” says Padmé. 

I don’t let my emotions get the better of me, despite wanting to let them out desperately. Instead, I nod, and ask, “Why?”

“Because we have to go help someone who might be in danger,” Padmé explains, “who  _ is _ in danger.”

Anakin lets out a very audible groan, showing his distaste for this decision. “Not  _ we _ .” 

Padmé sighs, her warm brown eyes filled with despair. She removes her hands from my shoulders, then goes to pressing buttons that must do something. 

“Geonosis is less than a parsec away,” she says. “Threepio, can you please forward Obi-Wan’s message to Coruscant?” Her voice is small, contained. 

The tall droid, the one who’s freshly shined, steps forward and does as Padmé asks. Almost immediately, another man pops up, although I suspect this time it’s a live feed. 

Because I’m directly caught in the view of whoever is on the other side, Anakin picks me up and puts me down, like I’m an object in his way. I decide to let out a bit of anger and I feel my cheeks get red and hot and my nose slightly crinkle. 

“Master Windu,” Anakin says, his voice calm and crystal-clear. 

_ I don’t care about his conversation. Just tune him out.  _

Normally, in moments of anger, I think of a happy place. My happy place is thinking about one moment when I was little, and had received my first piece of jewelry. It was a small, clear, and iridescent stone, and it was attached to a silk strand. It had been smoothed out and clarified, so you could see bits of purple and white inside. For a few brief minutes after receiving it, I was left alone. I held tightly onto the necklace, shutting my eyes and thinking about absolutely nothing. It was the most peaceful thing I’d ever experienced. And nothing has ever topped it. 

_ I wonder if the necklace is in the bag. _

I scramble for the bag, searching through bits and pieces of stones and metal charms, until I finally find the item I’m searching for. 

It’s exactly the same as I remember it. Because it was the last piece of jewelry I traded with Shmi Skywalker for, I have more memories with it than I do with the others. 

I don’t really know why I love this necklace so much. I don’t even remember who gave it to me, but it doesn’t matter. I hold the stone so tight I think my hand might break, and my anger slowly dissolves. 

When I’m done, and fully calmed down, I gently stick the necklace back into the bag, and accidentally grab onto another necklace, except this one is made of amber. I recognize it instantly, and put it around my neck. And once again, I’ve managed to miss an argument between Padmé and Anakin. 

“Of course we are,” Padmé says, close to yelling.. She starts entering the coordinates for an unknown planet, and Anakin grabs her arm. 

“ _ No _ , we’re not. We’re staying right here.”

I stand up swiftly, which garners the attention of both Anakin and Padmé, and Anakin releases Padmé from his grip. 

“I wasn’t necessarily paying attention, but please do note that shouting doesn’t solve any issue,” I express, the words smoothly rolling out of my mouth. Padmé crosses her arms, and Anakin goes red-faced. 

“I have no issue making a few detours on our way to wherever you’re supposed to be, so if I have any say in it, I am making my statement now.” I’m making sure to use all of my vocabulary, and to both elongate and shorten my words. 

Anakin huffs. “I’ve been given orders to do one particular thing.” 

“Actually,” Padmé interjects, “he’s been given orders to protect me. And I’m going to go help save Obi-Wan.” 

At this point, I presume the man on the pre-recorded hologram is Obi-Wan. How he’s in danger or why he’s in danger, I don’t know, but the best course of actions seems to be to follow Padmé. She seems to be the wisest out of the three of us. 

I walk over to Padmé, standing over her shoulder as she sits down in the passenger seat. We’re about the same height, but I carry myself differently than she does, so at times I do seem taller. Anakin, who is presumably done pouting, sits in the pilot’s seat and starts to fly the ship.

“You might need to sit down,” he suggests, not looking at me in the slightest. 

Without hesitation or pause, I do as he says, and head towards the middle of the ship. I strap myself in, and take note of the droids sitting directly across from me. 

These people, with no expectations of something in return, are doing something incredibly kind for me. 

_ What can you do for them? You have nothing to give them, nothing that they don’t already have. _

Padmé said something about Anakin receiving orders to protect her. 

_ Why would she need protecting? _

I have no doubt in my mind that she’s somehow important. She’s strong-willed, wise. She’s no one in business, that’s for sure. Jokingly, I think maybe she’s an heir to a throne on an important planet, and then it hits me. 

She’s a politician. It makes sense. She’s traveling in a lavish ship, with a lavish wardrobe, but she’s inclined to help others. 

“I’ve never space-traveled before,” the gold-ish droid says out loud. 

“Me neither,” I respond. The droid, who I don’t think was talking to me, turns about to face me. 

“What is your name?” The droid’s voice is chipper and up-beat. 

“I don’t have one,” I say. I observe the droid process the information I’ve just given him.

“Well, I’m C-Threepio, human-cyborg relations.” 

I nod, making sure to keep my facial expressions to a minimum. Droids analyze everything. 

I can tell we take off because I can feel my organs shift in my stomach. It’s very disorienting, but it’s not the worst. I crane my neck so I can look out of some sort of window, but it only fuels my uncomfort. I decide to sit completely still, knowing that it will aid me. 

_ What about Padmé? _

If there’s any danger threatening her, the best course of action will be to simply remove her from any situations where she might encounter it. How I could do that is the question. 

And so, I begin to form a plan. 

~

We shift out of what they call hyperspace, and I feel especially nauseous. I have barely anything in my stomach, but that barely anything seems to want to climb out. 

“We’ve arrived,” Padmé announces. “Geonosis.” 

I’ve studied maps of the galaxy before, and Geonosis was never a planet I paid attention to. I was thinking,  _ oh, what planet will my new owner take me to _ , and Geonosis, with its rather unyielding climate, never seemed to be the best option. Plus, it’s only a short distance from Tatooine, and where’s the fun in that?

I unstrap myself and go to stand between the passenger seat and the pilot’s seat. The planet truly is ugly. We haven’t even entered its atmosphere yet, but I can already tell it’s not going to be a pleasant experience. But to be fair, I haven’t even had my share of those yet. 

I don’t sit back down as we enter the atmosphere, but I place my hand on one of the ship’s walls to brace myself. 

It’s true; I’ve never space-traveled before. Or if I have, I certainly don’t remember it. It’s a disorienting thing, it is. And as I can make out the shape of the terrain, I notice the shift in the pressure and gravity. I feel my body lighten up, and my feet relieve some of the responsibility of carrying my body.

“Land in that steam vent, there,” Padmé instructs. Anakin does as she says, and the ship lands with a slight rebound. 

Padmé gets up almost immediately, but I stand in her way, stopping her from moving. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, a tone of annoyance perched in her voice. 

“You can’t go,” I answer. Padmé’s expression shifts from annoyance to confusion. 

“What do you mean, I can’t go?” 

“I mean, you can’t go.” I look at Anakin, who is staring at his feet. “I’ll go.” This makes him look up. 

“ _ You _ can’t go,” Anakin interrupts. 

“Why can’t  _ I _ ? I know why she can’t, but what legitimate reason do you have for me not to go? If it’s going to be dangerous like you two have been inferring, then  _ she _ shouldn’t be going. She’s important, isn’t she?” 

Anakin stares, silent, a particular shade of guilt flushing his cheeks. 

“I’ll be fine,” Padmé says. She’s trying to assure me, but I’m not the type of person to be won over with only words.   
“Can you guarantee that? Can you one hundred percent absolutely guarantee that? Because if you can, then you can go. But if you can’t, then I’m going.

“I’m nothing. No one. You’re not. You mean something to people. Something strong.” 

Everyone is silent. 

“All right,” Padmé whispers. She picks up a white shawl and places it over my shoulders. 

Anakin presses a button that opens the door to the outside, and he gives me a look that leads me to follow behind him. 

As I’m heading down, and I can breathe in the Geonosis air, I turn around and stop in my tracks. 

I know I shouldn’t do this, but I do anyway. I reach out and hug Padmé, who is standing near the doorway. She doesn’t relent or push away. In fact, she completely and totally accepts the hug. She wraps her arms around me and pulls my head against the space between her shoulder and her neck. 

It’s weird, being so attached to someone I’ve only just met. I’ve never hugged anyone in my entire life, and for my first and most likely last, it makes sense to be one with Padmé. 

“Good luck,” Padmé whispers into my hair.   
The hug is warm and pleasing, but I pull away. I give her a silent, expressive nod before I turn around and start walking away. I notice that she’s put a blaster in my belt. 

While it’s dark and no one can see, I slip something personal inside of the stone around my neck. 

Anakin follows to the side of me, quiet and gloomy. He has a sort of metal rod in his hand.  _ Does he seriously expect to fight with a rod? _

We walk for a while, and the place seems deserted. 

“It’s a droid factory,” Anakin informs me. He’s right, because I can hear the distant banging and hum of the factory just below our feet. 

It’s too deserted. There has to be a drawback. Maybe it’s a trap, and we’ve just walked straight into our graves. 

“Wait,” Anakin says in a murmur. He stops right in his tracks, and gets a look on his face that makes me stop as well. 

I happen to look up, and the ceiling’s fucking moving. 

“Look!” I shout, getting out my blaster and shooting the ceiling. Winged, gnarly creatures start to detach from the ceiling, moving in towards us, but I start running, occasionally shooting behind me. 

As I’m looking back, watching for winged creatures following me, I see Anakin fighting with a bolt of pure blue light, surrounded by them.

I should attempt to save myself, right? I should be smart and selfish. But I don’t and I’m not, because I stop running and shoot the creatures surrounding Anakin. It’s lucky that I’m a good shot, because it allows Anakin to run towards me at a pace like I’ve never seen.

When he’s somewhat close to me, I start running to account for how much longer his legs are. I run through a doorway, which leads to a vast, deep factory full of conveyor belts and machinery. By the time Anakin’s completely caught up to me, I realize that the walkway I’m standing on ends abruptly. 

“We need to go back,” I utter, turning around only to find that the doorway is now closed. 

The walkway starts shortening, and before I can even think about it, I jump, tumbling down onto a conveyor. 

I think Anakin said something, but I can’t hear anything over the loud sounds of the factory. 

I scramble through the conveyor belt, dodging the various stamps and presses. It’s a frantic, desperate scramble. I didn’t expect myself to not want to die this much. 

Before it can even get its hands on me, I shoot down a creature that had planned to attack. On instinct, I leap onto the edge on a large metal vat. I grip the edge with my thighs and keep one hand on the edge, confidently holding my blaster in the other. 

As I’m looking out for the vats ahead of me, paying attention to which ones are getting filled with molten metal, I feel something grab my arms and drag me into the air. I fire my blaster, hoping to hit whatever it is, but it’s promptly knocked out of my hand. I swing my body around, kicking and squirming until finally I’m let go. 

I’m dropped onto a metal walkway, where I’m allowed a few moments of peace and rest. That abruptly ends when I see battle droids with guns starting to surround me. 

With the force of my entire body, I pound my necklace into my heart. Immediately, my entire body goes numb and I pass out. 

_ Anakin didn’t want the girl to go with him to save Obi-Wan, and he had made that very clear... but she seemed to have a mind completely of her own.  _

_ He’d never really had much experience with women-- other than Padmé-- so it was safe to say that the girl was unlike anyone he’d ever known. “Unique” isn’t the word he’d use. Or “different” or “quirky” or “original.” The word he would use to describe her and the way she acted would be “odd.” She was totally and completely odd. He didn’t understand a single thing that came out of her mouth.  _

_ That was, until he heard what she’d said to Padmé. She was a good arguer, he’d give her that. She had managed to make Padmé’s will seem flimsy, which wasn’t necessarily an easy task to complete.  _

_ There was something genuine about everything the girl said. Anakin knew that she would only ever tell the truth. After all, nothing she’d said had been a lie, right? _

_ Except one thing. She wasn’t no one. She would become, in his eyes, absolutely everything.  _

_ And as Anakin watched her turn around and wait for him to catch up, he knew that. She glowed more than his own lightsaber in the dark hallway. She was a ray of pure sunshine, a beam of pure, radiant light. She was completely and totally selfless, though neither of them really knew it. Because she shouldn’t have stopped running. Stopping meant the nasty creatures had a chance to feast on her. _

_ She had so much confidence that the creatures almost seemed scared of her. Maybe that’s why they stayed away. How someone could be so confident yet so insecure, that was the question.  _


	4. The Sentencing

**chapter 4**

I wake up to find myself completely calm and collected, carrying an air of importance and wisdom. 

I wake up Padmé Amidala. 

It’s very weird. Things I didn’t know about Padmé, I know now. I know her last names-- both of them-- and the planet of which she calls home. I don’t know everything about her, just her most important long-term memories. 

I  _ am _ her. My body isn’t mine anymore, it’s hers. My face isn’t mine anymore, it’s hers. 

I’m sitting at a round table, with Anakin standing behind me, like a giant beanstalk of a man.

I know exactly what Padmé would say in this situation, surrounded by Geonosian guards and sitting across from a rather scary individual. 

“You are holding a Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” I say calmly. “I am formally requesting you turn him over to me now.” 

“He has been convicted of espionage, Senator, and will be executed. In just a few hours, I believe,” says the white-bearded man. I feel Anakin’s gaze upon the top of my head, and I can sense his confusion. To reassure him, I look back up, giving a look that says “just go along with it.” I wouldn’t have done that. But Padmé would’ve, and so I did. 

His eyes widen immensely, but they stop when I start to turn my head back around. 

“He is an officer of the Republic,” I say, my voice slightly rising. “You can’t do that.” I can only act as Padmé does, and for Padmé to get slightly upset here makes no sense in my mind. 

“We don’t recognize the Republic here,” the white-bearded man says. “However, if Naboo were to join our alliance, I could easily hear your plea for clemency.” 

One of Padmé’s memories flashes through my head. The same white-bearded man, except it’s in a more refined political setting. 

_ Count Dooku. _

“And if I don’t join your rebellion, I assume this Jedi with me will also die.” 

“I don’t wish to make you join our cause against your will, Senator, but you are a rational, honest representative of your people, and I assume you want to do what’s in their best interest. Aren’t they fed up with the corruption, the bureaucrats, the hypocrisy of it all? Aren’t you? Be honest, Senator.” 

I feel a sting, but it’s only on the exterior. 

I don’t want Anakin to die because of me. Because I made a stupid decision.  _ I _ did this, not Padmé. 

“The ideals are still alive, Count, even if the institution is failing,” I respond. 

“You believe in the same ideals we believe in!” Dooku replied immediately, almost waiting for me to respond. “The same ideals we are striving to make prominent.”

“If what you say is true, you should stay in the Republic and help Chancellor Palpaine put things right.” 

“The Chancellor means well, milady, but he is incompetent,” Dooku says. “He has promised to cut the bureaucracy, but the bureaucrats are stronger than ever. The Republic cannot be fixed, milady. It is time to start over. The democratic process in the Republic is a sham. A game played on the voters. The time will come when that cult of greed called the Republic will lose even the pretext of democracy and freedom.” 

I know, and Padmé knows, that he’s exaggerating. Making himself the hero, when in fact he was the villain. He has plans to murder anyone in his way, which is not the democracy that he says he plans to implement. 

“I cannot believe that,” I say, mine and Padmé’s will stronger than ever. “I know of your treaties with the Trade Federation, the Commerce Guild, and the others, Count. What is happening here is not government that has been bought out by business, it’s business becoming government! I will not forsake all that I have honored and worked for, and betray the Republic.” 

“Then you will betray your Jedi friends? Without your cooperation, I can do nothing to stop their execution.” 

I have become a spectator now. At this point, I have no control over my actions, which I doubt are even mine. 

“And in that statement lies the truth of your proposed improvement.” Dooku became angry by this, but shortly went back to a staring and stagnant opponent. 

“And what about me?” I continue. “Am I to be executed also?”

“I wouldn’t think of such an offense,” Dooku says. “But there are individuals who have a strong interest in your demise, milady. It has nothing to do with politics, I’m afraid. It’s purely personal, and they have already paid great sums to have you assassinated. I’m sure they will push hard to have you included in the executions. I’m sorry, but if you are not going to cooperate, I must turn you over to the Geonosians for justice. Without your cooperation, I’ve done all I can for you.” 

I’m going to die. 

“Justice,” I echo, my head shaking and a smirk on my face. 

A few moments go by before Dooku turns and nods to the man standing behind him. 

“Take them away!”

~

I can tell I’m still Padmé, because I don’t quite feel like I’m living. I’m going to die as someone else. 

I watch while Padmé/me stands on trial, in a hall of “justice,” a courtroom of Geonosian standards. 

There were so many hateful, angry, gazes on Padmé/me. 

“You have been charged and found guilty of espionage,” says a Geonosian aide.

_ Espionage? What information have  _ I  _ gathered to hurt them besides the truth? _

“Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?” an important Geonosian dressed in lavish clothes asks. 

Padmé/me is unbelievably cool. Padmé/me stares at the Geonosian who asked this directly in the eyes. “You are committing an act of war, Archduke. I hope you are prepared for the consequences.” 

_ I hadn’t even considered war. _

The Geonosian chuckles, saying, “We build weapons, Senator. That is our business! Of course we’re prepared!” 

“Get on with it!” says a Neimoidian to the side of the Archduke. 

I feel Padmé/me’s head shake. 

“Your other Jedi friend is waiting for you, Senator,” the Archduke announces. “Take them to the arena!”

I should be afraid. I should be terribly, terribly afraid. But I’m not. I still feel a glimmer of myself shining through the cloud that is Padmé’s personality. And  _ I _ feel at peace. Willing to accept my death. How many times have I wished it, begged for it, called for it from the higher powers of the universe? More than I can count or remember, and more than one ever should. If I should have to die, it’s better that it came from noble efforts. The funny thing is that I knew I was going to die as soon as I stepped off of the landing platform of the Naboo ship. I had accepted the consequences of my brave-ish actions long before I was conscious of them. 

~

I had promised myself that I could cry when the time was right. I want to cry, more than ever. Not because I’m facing a violent, vicious, death, but because of everything I hadn’t cried about in my entire life. 

I’ve decided that death will be more peaceful than life. 

I stand in a cart of sorts, handcuffed, and facing the doors of the oh-so-talked-about arena. 

Anakin, who is also handcuffed, turns to look at me. 

“Your face,” he says. I squint my eyes, showing my confusion. 

“Look.” Anakin holds up his metal handcuffs, allowing me to look into my reflection. 

I’m me again. I wish I could feel my face, touch it and remember who I am. I didn’t even notice I’d changed back. I’m so wrapped up in my head everything about my body became autonomous. 

“Yeah,” I say. “That was weird.” 

“You’re not a changeling, are you?” Anakin asks, a glimmer of fear in his eyes. He’s scared I’m a changeling. Rightfully so; fortunately false.

“No,” I answer. “It’s a stone. Rare and single-use. Lets me appear as anyone I need to, but only for a certain amount of time and only once.” 

He nods, still confused, but relieved I’m not. 

“Did you see the stone I was wearing when we left the ship? It’s not on me now, is it?” 

Anakin glances at my chest, which is only covered in fabric. “There’s nothing there.” 

I sigh, turning away, feeling my eyes tear up. If I need to cry, now is the time. But something won’t let me. Something is whispering in my ear 

_ Don’t cry _ . 

Maybe stifling my emotions is the right thing to do for now. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Anakin says in an attempt to reassure me. He has no social cues whatsoever, because I’ve already gotten over that random wave of emotions. 

“I’m not.”  
“Death doesn’t scare you?”  
“No, not anymore.” 

“Why not, if it’s not bothersome.”

“Anakin, we’re about to die. I don’t mind bothersome.”

“See, I don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?”  
“You just… don’t react.”

“I’m not afraid to die because I’ve gone through worse.”

Silence.

“Do you know what kind of slave I was Anakin?”  
A quiet “no.” 

“I was a sex slave. I was groomed into being this perfect wife, the perfect lover. The perfect, beautiful, silent girl. I had people looking at my naked body every day after I hit puberty. I had men, awful old men, touching my body with their mouths wide open, drooling. I was kept in a cage for my entire life. I was always something to look at, something to touch, something to get off on. But that wasn’t as bad as what I was always facing. My owner used to always say to me that that was just a preview for the life ahead of me, that my future husband would be able to do whatever he wanted to me.”

I bite my lip, trying not to look in Anakin’s eyes. “So no, I’m not afraid of death. Anything is better than being alive.” 

Nothing I had just said was a lie. None of it. I’ve laid out the truth right in front of Anakin’s eyes, and all he has to do is just see it and do the same.

“I was a slave,” he says. 

So he’s chosen to do the same.

“A different kind, but a slave. When I was nine, I was freed.”

Nine. I remember being nine. Growing an inch taller and having my owner shout at me for it. 

I was nine when I received my necklace, the one I cherish so much. I remember it clearly now, because I received it from a boy my age. A boy with sandy blond hair. A slave. A boy who was freed when I was nine. 

Just like Anakin. 

Which isn’t possible. I would remember it, right? 

But I  _ do _ remember it. But maybe he doesn’t. 

“I remember you.”

He does. He  _ does _ . 

“I remember when I first saw you, I was young. I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

I stay silent. 

“Do you remember?”

“Yes,” I whisper. I thought I would lie, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to lie to him.

A Geonosian yells something, and the doors to the arena open.   
I take my time, however. I lean in close to Anakin’s face, planting a soft and tender kiss onto his cheekbone. His skin is soft and smells like water, if that’s even possible. 

“Thank you for everything, Anakin,” I say, my face and body still leaning into his. 

The cart lurches forward and I look out into the broad daylight.

_ Anakin had never been more confused in his life. One second, he was staring at the gleaming light that was the girl, and the next he was staring into the face of the Senator he was assigned to protect. _

_When they were rounded up to meet with Count Dooku, Anakin got his first glimpse of the faux Padmé. It was scarily believable, if it weren’t for the clothes._ _  
__Anakin had never been the brightest, but he certainly wasn’t when it came to things he didn’t understand. Fixing things, he understood. Piloting, he understood. But he didn’t understand why he was seeing things differently than everyone else saw them._

 _At first, he would admit, he thought that there was something wrong with his eyes, that he was the only one who saw Padmé instead of the girl. He didn’t understand Geonosian and the girl certainly wasn’t talking either._ _  
__But then Dooku referred to the girl as Senator. Was the girl a changeling? Did she secretly switch with Padmé while he wasn’t looking?_

_ When the girl looked up at him, he knew instantly that that was in fact, the girl. When she gave him a look that in anyone else would have seemed suspicious, it wasn’t. A flash of her eyes shone through Padmé’s. It was like seeing the sun after being confused by all the clouds.  _

_ Anakin had thought about death before-- certainly during that period of time-- but he had never considered his own death. How could he die? He was a Jedi, powerful and strong. He had trained with Obi-Wan to be the Jedi that never died, but here he was, facing execution.  _

_ He didn’t want to think about the girl’s death. He had sworn to protect her, a vow that wasn’t assigned to him by the Council, but by his own mother, a vow that was deeply personal to him. She was so young, so beautiful. So clever and selfless. She didn’t deserve to die. Anakin didn’t want her to die.  _

_ Although, he was glad to see her face right before they headed into the arena. Although Padmé was beautiful, Anakin could only think of pain when he saw her face. His nightmares had grown more intense and more realistic when he was reunited with her. Not only that, but Padmé also reminded him of his once-had innocence. _

_ It was crazy for Anakin to think about how intensely he once loved Padmé. It was a foolish, selfish kind of love. Just a few days ago, Anakin had thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Padmé, whether it was with her or not. He no longer felt that way and he knew exactly why.  _

_ The girl. It was all because of her.  _

_ Padmé had always made him feel cloudy and dark inside… at times, angry. But the girl only ever made him feel light inside, like at any given point he could just jump and fly off. Anakin never found himself angry or hateful in her presence. Just to think about all the dark things he would’ve done to the sandpeople if she hadn’t been there was enough to make Anakin realize that there was a spark of love between him and the girl.  _

_ He had no idea if she felt the same, if he made her feel the same way she did. She was an intricate creature, one whose emotions he couldn’t tell, not even with the Force.  _

_ Anakin remembered the little girl his age from Tatooine. Everyone in Mos Espa had talked about her at least once; after all, she was rumored to be an angel.  _

_ When Anakin Skywalker called Padmé Amidala an angel, he assumed that she was one; like the girl was.  _

_Before anyone in a chromium-plated starship had even entered the system of Tatooine, Anakin had spent an immeasurable amount of time searching for the right stone to give to the supposed angel. Her owner allowed you to see her, but only if you brought gifts._ _  
__Then Anakin happened to stumble upon an Anj stone. They were very rare, but nearly worthless. Watto wouldn’t like it if Anakin stole from him, but Anakin did it anyway. It didn’t matter that he might get punished for it later, because he had to see the angel._

_ The very second Anakin laid eyes upon the girl, he knew he would never forget her. She didn’t speak a single word while Anakin gave the necklace to her, but she gave him a smile when she peeked at the purple and white colors inside of it. He only saw her for a few minutes, but those few minutes were the peak of his enslaved childhood.  _

_ Anakin never did really forget about her. She was always at the back of his mind, the tip of his tongue. And when he saw her face again for the first time in a long while, he remembered her instantly.  _

_ And she remembered him too! After everything she’d experienced, she remembered him too.  _

_ If he weren’t about to die, he would be grinning.  _

_ As the girl leaned into Anakin’s face, he prepared himself for a kiss. Normally, he was the one to initiate them, but whatever.  _

_ The gentle, soft kiss placed on his cheekbone meant more to him than a kiss. Although it hurt him just a little bit, he appreciated it. And what’s better is that she smelled sweet, like candied flowers. He wanted to hug her, to put his arms around her, but something in him told him not to. A voice, distant but clear, told him to do everything in his power to make sure they didn’t die.  _

_ Anakin Skywalker refused to let her die.  _


	5. The Arena

**chapter 5**

The first thing I hear isn’t the crowd of Geonosians roaring in excitement. It’s not my heartbeat racing. 

It’s a voice. The voice is saying  _ you’re not going to die.  _

It unsettles me a little bit, but not enough to extremely rattle me. 

_ You’re going to pick the lock on your handcuffs _ , the voice says.

_ I am? _ I think. 

_ You are _ , it says.  _ There’s a pin in your shirt. Take the pin and pick one of the locks. Quickly and discreetly. But wait until they’ve tied you to the post. _

As I step down off of the cart, I notice the man, Obi-Wan, pinned up to one of the tall stone poles. He gives me a look, one that urges me to keep my head down. If I keep my head down, no one should notice that I am not the Senator they think they are executing. 

Before the Geonosian with a blaster can tie me to the pole, I take the pin from out of my shirt-- one that was holding my shirt to my pants-- and stick it in my mouth. It’s a little sharp and it tastes like metal, but I don’t mind, in this situation. 

Anakin, who was currently having his handcuffs connected to a pole’s chain, was talking to Obi-Wan. Over the roaring of the crowds, I can’t hear what they’re saying. 

When the Geonosian’s done connecting me, I pick the lock on my left handcuff in 4 seconds. 

The voice is gone, however. I’m left with no further instruction.

Three creatures are revealed from below the arena. An acklay, a reek, and a nexu. 

I should’ve expected the executions on Geonosis to be messy. 

The nexu, which is heading towards me, lets out a noise like that of a growl. 

I know what to do now.   
With a speed that shouldn’t be possible for my currently frail body, I climb the pole. When I’ve reached the top, I start to pick the other lock. The nexu starts to attempt to climb up the pole itself, using its sharp claws as hooks.   
It gets high enough where it feels it can try to scratch me, but I jump to the uninhabited pole towards the edge of the row, still holding my empty handcuffs and the chain that connects to the other pole. 

I then decide to take a risk. 

Grabbing my handcuffs with immeasurable strength, I jump and swing, kicking the nexu on its neck. It yelps and falls to the ground, barely able to move. 

I hear someone shouting, trying to get my attention.

It’s Anakin. He’s riding the reek, and he’s yelling at me to jump down. 

I take a leap of faith, falling down while Anakin sticks out one his hands and my fall is slowed down. I land gently onto the back of the reek, sitting directly behind Anakin. 

I don’t necessarily want to do this, but I know I have to if I want to stay on the reek. I put my arms around Anakin’s waist, making sure to keep my distance from his body. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, commanding the reek to move forward. 

“Yes!” I shout, my own voice barely audible. 

Obi-Wan, who is busy fighting the acklay, stops fighting to jump onto the reek right behind me. He doesn’t grab onto me or even onto Anakin but instead trusts his thighs to hold him completely. 

Rolling from seemingly out of nowhere, droids with shield generators and double-blasters surrounded us, forcing Anakin to halt the reek and for my body to somewhat collide into his. Embarrassed, I separate my body from his, while actually getting closer to Obi-Wan.

My very first in-person impression of Obi-Wan is that he smells incredibly good. I can’t describe the exact smell, but it’s not a product of cologne or body-wash. It’s a natural scent, one that comes from his skin. 

To hide my face, I keep it down low and behind Anakin’s neck-- not touching but close. I avoid breathing out of my mouth so he doesn’t feel me, but it only makes me out-of-breath. 

I stare at the back of Anakin’s neck, not wanting to see what’s going on around me. However, out of the corner of my eyes, I see flashes of light-- green and blue. Purely out of curiosity and instinct, I look… and find hundreds of people carrying lightsticks like that of Anakin’s. They start fighting the battle droids that have suddenly appeared, knocking down one after one like a child playing with small creatures. 

The reek, terrified at the fighting going on around it, starts bucking and jumping. Before it can throw me off, I jump, rolling onto the ground safely. Anakin and Obi-Wan, however, do not, so they’re sent flying into the air. It would be funny if it weren’t in a dire circumstance. 

I grab a blaster off of the ground before any droids spot me and start shooting. I knock a couple of droids down before it happens. 

While I was looking around, making sure no one was hurt, a droid from all the way across the arena saw me and shot its blaster, hitting me in the left arm. 

I scream in pain, falling down to the ground. Luckily, the droid was far away enough to where the blaster bolt only burned my skin. That didn’t make it any less painful. 

I can’t think about anything else than the burning sensation in my arm. I can’t think about the droid that shot me getting ready to shoot me again. 

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t even get a chance, because Anakin is blocking its attacks. 

Knowing that it can’t get me again gives me courage to stand up and run into a crashed cart for cover. Anakin follows, making sure no one can shoot me again. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s not even given me a glance. 

I continue to shoot droids, making sure to aim for their heads. I continue to shoot even when I hear a humming sound from above me. 

_ Humming sound _ , I think. I look up to find half a dozen gunships descending onto the arena. 

“Up there,” I shout at the top of my lungs. The fighting stops for just a moment as the gunships have time to land. Then a thunderous amount of laserfire rains down upon the gunships, but it’s too late. They’ve already put their shields up. 

_ Finally _ , I think,  _ I can stop fighting _ . 

Although I don’t want to stop fighting. Though shooting a blaster isn’t necessarily a fight, it gives me a rush of energy, of pleasure. Knowing that I can defend myself if needed is a relief. 

Before I can even do anything, Anakin scoops me up by the waist and takes me to a gunship along with Obi-Wan. Almost immediately after we board, the gunship takes off. 

“Is your arm ok?” Anakin asks/shouts, concern expressed through his eyes. 

“Yes,” I lie through my teeth. 

Obi-Wan, noticing my fib, rips off a piece of fabric from his shirt and starts wrapping it around my wound. I shriek in agony because of how tightly he’s wrapping it, but it promptly starts to feel better and I gain more movement.   
Obi-Wan doesn’t say a word to me. He only turns around to look out at the vast terrain below us. 

I desperately want to sit down. My legs ache and my lungs are particularly exhausted. Sitting down, however, is close to giving up. I’m not going to give up.

Maybe I’ll be commended for my service in battle, if that’s what this is. Maybe they’ll ask me to fight again, to be of service to them. Maybe they’ll help me find out where I want to go, what I want to do. Because frankly, I have no idea about any of it. I don’t know what lies ahead of me. I _ do _ know what I don’t want to happen. I  _ don’t _ want to go back to how I was living before. Anything but that. 

FREEDOM is a funny thing. As I look out at the Geonosis landscape that is zooming past us, I smell FREEDOM. It’s an awful, horrid smell. But it’s refreshing, and it’s all mine. Right now, I can do anything I want and no one can tell me not to. What are they to me? They’re people, with minds and motivations of their own, but they don’t own me. Only I own me, which is the beautiful thing about it. My entire life, I’ve been told that I’m beautiful. But that’s not real, this is. This is truly beautiful, a thing that’s genuine and unequivocal, something that’ll never disappear as long as I hold onto it. That’s FREEDOM. 

To take the pressure off of my feet, I grab onto the black net above my head. Coincidentally, the gunship rocks, which would have caused me to fall out if I wasn’t holding onto something. 

Zoning off is incredibly peaceful. I feel like I’m here but not really here, like everything around me is an illusion. It’s preferable to reality. 

I zone out until Anakin and Obi-Wan disappear from my vision. I notice that we’ve landed outside of a huge tower.   
Purely out of curiosity, I decide to venture inside. The tower door, which is wide open, makes me question whether or not they’ve gone in there. Maybe they were taken inside there, or maybe they burst through. 

Without any pause, I keep walking and listen to the sounds nearby in hopes to find Anakin and Obi-Wan. 

Ahead of me lies a massive hangar, and I can hear the buzzing and humming of Anakin’s lightstick. 

Although I’m sort of limping, my footsteps are completely silent. Despite them being quiet, I attract the attention of the three men inside of the hangar, currently in the middle of fighting. 

It’s Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Count Dooku. All three are looking at me like I’m missing a limb. 

Worried that I am, I check my arms and legs, noting that they’re still attached. 

“Get out of here!” Anakin says under his breath. 

Count Dooku steps towards me, a look of doom on his face. 

_ Count Doom-u. _

He’s carrying an odd lightstick, one that’s red and has a bended handle. 

And he starts to point it towards me.

“A clever maneuver you pulled,” Dooku says, getting increasingly closer to me. “Do you have any more tricks up your sleeve?”

I shake my head, the motion making me dizzy. 

“ _ Get out of here _ ,” Anakin repeats, this time louder and more serious in tone. He’s commanding me. 

He shouldn’t be allowed to command me, right? No one can command me anymore. I have FREEDOM.

I stay put. 

Dooku’s pace increases until he’s charging towards me. 

I backpedal, shuffling rearwards. I manage to trip, twisting my ankle and causing me to fall down onto my ass. 

I laugh, because in such a dire situation, I’ve managed to make a fool out of myself. 

I stop laughing when a red beam of light enters my space. 

It’s stopped, however. It’s stopped by a green lightstick. 

Looking over at Anakin and Obi-Wan, I notice that they’re still standing behind Dooku, apprehensive and cautious. 

They’re not the ones defending me. 

So who is? 

It’s a green creature, who stands a little over half a meter. They’re holding the lightstick. 

“Harm the girl, you will not, Dooku,” the creature says. Dooku, surprised, backs up, then adjusts his posture for battle.   
_I should’ve taken my blaster with me_. 

The creature then attacks Dooku, using all of the power in their tiny body. 

The only thing preventing me from getting up and running is the fact that I would miss this fight.

I’ve never seen a fight like this before. 

Just when I think the creature has got Dooku cornered, Dooku manages to slip away and come back. 

Eventually, Anakin and Obi-Wan join the fight. However, Anakin’s rage and Obi-Wan’s confidence in his odds cause them to swiftly be forced out of the fight.

Like all men, they have no sense of “no.” Everytime Dooku bests them, they gather their senses and start fighting again. 

Maybe I should go get my blaster. 

Very swiftly and sneakily, I make my way back to the gunship swiftly and sneakily, grabbing my blaster and running back to the hangar. 

It’s the same as before I left… looks like I haven’t missed anything. 

Out of instinct, I aim my blaster and wait for the opportune moment. It needs to be when Anakin and Obi-Wan aren’t currently fighting Dooku. 

I pull the trigger. 

Maybe I missed something, or maybe I just forgot, but something’s very wrong with my blaster. Instead of shooting a singular laserbolt in the direction I was pointing, it backfires in my arms, causing the blaster to be propelled backwards and hit me in the head. 

Just like me, I collapse. 

Unfortunately, it also makes a loud noise, once again attracting the attention of the four-person fight. 

The wound on my head grows louder and louder in my brain, eventually until there’s… nothing.

_To be completely honest, Anakin didn’t have a single fraction of a plan going into the arena._ _He decided he was going to go off of intuition._

_ His master, Obi-Wan, gave Anakin a look of disapproval when he noticed the girl. _

_ “What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan asked.  _

_ “I retransmitted the message, master,” Anakin said. “And then we decided to rescue you.”  _

_ “Well good job,” Obi-Wan said sarcastically. “Where is Senator Amidala and who is ‘we’?”  _

_ Anakin looked towards the girl, who was being tied up to her own pole. “The Senator is all right. No one’s looking for her as of now. ‘We’ is me, Padmé, and her.”  _

_ “Please tell me that you haven’t picked up a hitchhiker, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said disdainfully.  _

_ “I haven’t, master.”  _

_ “Well, who is she then, if not a hitchhiker?” _

_ “She’s no one.” _

_ The roar of the reek, which had just been released, interrupted the two’s conversations.  _

_ Anakin and Obi-Wan did not talk again until they had boarded the gunship.  _

_ “You flee to her defense rather quickly, don’t you think, young Padawan?” Obi-Wan said, looking at the girl. She was looking out, not paying attention. A glassy look was in her eyes and she was biting her bottom lip. _

_ “She’s not a soldier, master. She doesn’t know how to defend herself as well as she should. And besides, isn’t that a Jedi’s job, to protect those who cannot do it themselves?”  _

_ “Perhaps, long ago. In time, she will be capable of protecting herself.” _

_ “Maybe,” Anakin said, defeated. He didn’t have it in him to argue with his master. He also knew that what Obi-Wan was saying was true.  _

_ The girl was very good at protecting herself. _

_ It was almost like a reflex, Anakin noticed. She defended herself from the nexu without any help.  _

_ However, her natural tendencies were to help other people. Anakin had been watching her right before she was wounded, and she was trying to make sure everyone in the arena was okay.  _

_ She was the most conflicting person Anakin had ever known. She was confident, yet insecure; defensive, yet selfless. She was wise and practical, yet partly insane.  _

_ He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. Anakin had never felt such intense, blissful feelings like this before.  _

_ When Anakin saw the girl’s blaster be rammed into her head, his heart nearly stopped. Without any hesitation, he looked to Yoda and received the approval to run towards her.  _

_ Yet he wasn’t the first to get to her. _

_ Padmé, a blaster in hand, was kneeling besides the girl, examining her multiple wounds. She waved her hand, signaling one of the clones behind her to pick the girl up in his arms.  _

_ Anakin wanted to be the one to pick her up and carry her to safety. Although somehow he knew that’s not what the girl would want. If she had had a choice, she would be laying there, left to die.  _

_ Padmé approached Anakin, though it appeared he wasn’t the one she was going to address.  _

_ “Senator Amidala,” Obi-Wan said with an air of exhaustion. “It’s good to see that you’re not dead after all.”  _

_ “Yes,” Padmé said. “Thanks to her.” She gestured to the girl, who was still being held in a clone’s arms.  _

_ “We should get her to a medical facility,” Anakin blurted.  _

_ “Yes, immediately,” Padmé agreed. She signaled again, and the clone started running, Padmé shortly following behind.  _

_ Anakin went to run with them, but he felt a stern hand on his shoulder.  _

_ “Stay here, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. The way he said Anakin’s name was intimate and genuine.  _

_ “Yes, master,” Anakin replied.  _

_ “Anakin, after watching you today fighting Dooku, and keeping control of your anger, I think you’re ready to become a Knight. I’m sure of it, to be truthful.”  _

_ Anakin felt on top of the world. It was quickly brought down when he remembered the trials. _

_ “What about the trials?” _

_ “I’m sure you’ve faced and completed all of them in that arena and against Dooku.”  _

_ Knighthood? Anakin thought he’d been ready, prepared, but he felt giddy when he thought about the reality of the fact.  _

_ “We’ll talk about it when we get back to Coruscant,” Obi-Wan said.  _

_ “All right, master.”  _

_ Anakin Skywalker couldn’t  _ wait _ to get back to Coruscant.  _


	6. The Aftermath

**chapter 6**

The first thing I notice is the smell of the room. It’s clean and mechanical, like new machinery. The second thing I notice is how numb my body feels. I can feel the shadow of pain, but otherwise I feel nothing. 

It’s the best I’ve ever felt.

My stomach is full to the brim, so I’m assuming I’ve been fed— though I certainly don’t remember it. My bones feel strong and rich, as opposed to thin and brittle. My hair, which had been all sorts of unmanageable, is combed through and parted down the middle. It’s also slightly damp, so it’s most likely been washed.

The entire room is white. It’s so white it would probably hurt to look at, if I wasn’t on particularly strong pain medication. 

“You’re awake,” a voice says. I look to my left side to find Padmé, sitting down with a blanket in her lap. 

“I am, I think,” I say, my eyes wavering back and forth from Padmé to my feet. 

_ My feet.  _

I’m not wearing any socks. My toenails have been cut and glossed over with clear polish. 

“Good,” Padmé says. “You’ve been out for an entire day.” 

_ I have? _

“Out?” I ask. 

“Yes, you hit your head.” Padmé’s brow furrows. “Do you remember?”

I definitely do, but around thirty seconds ago I was sure that was just a dream. Now, I’m not so sure. 

Luckily, I trust Padmé, so it’s unlikely she’s lying to me. I’m the only one lying… and it’s to myself. 

“I remember,” I mutter. 

“You did very well,” Padmé says. “Or, as well as you could. I have a feeling that if I had gone, the same result would’ve been reached.” 

“What result?”

“War,” Padmé whispered. 

_ War? War? I had considered it, considered it very briefly, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I’ve never seen war before. _

“Where are we?” 

“A med facility on Coruscant,” Padmé answers. 

I must’ve definitely been out, because I don’t remember entering an entirely new system, let alone the most prominent one in the galaxy. I wasn’t allowed much information about the rest of the galaxy on Tatooine, but Coruscant was talked about enough to give me an idea of it. The only planet in the entire galaxy to be an entire city. Every square meter of the planet is urbanized. 

“You’re ok,” Padmé says, interpreting my concern as concern for my well-being. 

“Oh, ok,” I say, not sure how to respond. 

“They treated the wound on your arm and the wound on your temple,” Padmé tells me. “And your malnutrition and dehydration.” 

That explains why I feel so good.

“They also gave you a pain elixir,” Padmé continues. 

“Ok,” I repeat. 

“There’s something.”

“Yes?” I ask, intrigued. Maybe I’ve got a family that they found. 

“When the droids were cleaning your wounds, they sampled your blood to examine it,” Padmé says, “and they… they didn’t find anything. No close DNA matches were found in the database. They searched every system in the Republic.” 

“Nothing?” I whimper, close to crying. 

“Nothing,” she whispers. 

I have nothing. No family, no identity. 

“Oh, ok,” I croak. 

It’s disappointing. I spent nearly my entire life believing that I was nobody, and as soon as I’m given a taste of FREEDOM and hope that I  _ am _ somebody, it’s ruined by the truth. 

I am nobody. And I will never be anybody. 

“I can show you around Coruscant, if that’ll make you feel better?” Padmé offers. It’s kind of her to do something like this, and I have no choice but to accept.

I nod. 

I’m wearing a simple white frock made out of thick fabric, but I instantly hope for a change of clothing. The frock is sleeveless and short--- not the kind of clothing I feel comfortable in. I don’t like my body, and now that I’ve most likely gained weight, it’s not going to be any more appealing. 

Padmé slides her hand under my waist, but I can walk decent enough to where I don’t need extra help. Very gently, I put Padmé’s hand back down to her side. 

I’m very grateful for the numbness I feel as I walk. Though I don’t necessarily remember hurting my legs, they’re a little stiff. 

The med facility isn’t large. In fact, it’s rather small. We only go through two doors before we’re out in the open. 

My first thought is that it’s very,  _ very _ cold. Too cold for me to be wearing only a frock. 

I can’t stop myself from shivering. Padmé takes the blanket she has in her arms and wraps it around my arms. The blanket is fuzzy and soft. It smells clean, like Padmé does.

The tall, modern buildings around me seem never-ending, like they go up forever. 

“What part is this?” 

“It’s near the Senate apartment complexes,” Padmé replies. “You were just in the Senatorial med-care office.” 

Padmé points towards a soaring, oddly-shaped tower. 

“That’s where my apartment is,” she says. 

I nod. 

We walk across a bridge to the building, and I get a glimpse of the rest of the city. It spans on for seemingly forever, and each building is somewhat different from the others. 

When we’re done crossing the bridge, Padmé holds out her wrist towards the door, where a mechanical arm suddenly sticks out and starts scanning her wrist. When it’s done, it makes a perky chirping sound, and the arm goes back into the wall. 

“It’s a chip,” Padmé explains, “that’s in my wrist. It’s my I.D. for whenever I go anywhere that needs it.” 

There’s no scar on her wrist from the implant. I suppose, if you were wealthy enough, you could get rid of any scars you wanted to. 

I have only one scar. No one will ever see it. 

It’s nighttime on Coruscant, but the lights around the buildings make the sky light up as if it were earlier in the day. 

When the door opens, we immediately walk through. I am bombarded by the fresh, clean air and the warmth. Though I don’t need it anymore, I keep the blanket around my shoulders in the fear that I might see anyone I don’t know. 

I’m guessing we’ve entered a lobby. There are multiple seating areas and three or four lifts. 

Padmé doesn’t say anything, but I know to follow her lead. She walks over to the very last lift and the door opens.   
We step inside and Padmé holds out her wrist again, except this time she has to press in something in Aurebesh as well. My Aurebesh is severely rusty, but I think she typed in her name. 

The lift door closes and it starts zooming upwards. Though I can tell we’re going up at a rather quick pace, it feels as if I’m standing, not moving at all. There are shutters around the glass, and I assume that they’re open during the day. 

Only thirty seconds go by before the lift smoothly stops. 

The doors open, and I am greeted by someone who looks an awful lot like Padmé. 

They’re not identical, I can tell that. Where Padmé has high cheekbones, she doesn’t have prominent ones. While Padmé’s eyes are a smooth, soft brown, hers are darker, more defined. 

“Milady,” the woman says. 

“Dormé, this is the girl I was talking about,” Padmé says. If I had a name, it would probably be a lot easier and less awkward to introduce me to someone. 

“Hello,” Dormé says. “I’m one of Padmé’s handmaidens.” 

I want to ask Padmé why her handmaiden looks so much like her, but I have no inclination to do it while Dormé is present.

I’m urged along into the apartment, which is very nice. The decorations are tasteful and make the place feel more like a home. 

“Do all Senators get apartments like this?” I ask. It’s luxurious. 

Padmé smiles. “The Naboo government purchased it for me when I became a Senator.” 

Dormé laughs. “My first thought when I saw this place was maybe  _ I _ should become a Senator,” she jokes. 

If I was a normal, happy girl, I would be laughing along with Dormé right now. 

We walk through several rooms before we get to what I assume is a bedroom.

“Dormé, could you get something for her?” Padmé says.

“Of course, milady,” Dormé responds. She curtsies and leaves the room. 

Padmé sighs and sits down on the bed. “This is my former handmaiden’s room,” she says with glassy eyes. 

“Former?” I don’t want to prod.

“She died,” Padmé lamented. “Her name was Cordé.”

_ I don’t want to prod. _

“How did she die?” 

_ Damnit. _

Padmé looks up at me, more sadness in her eyes than I’ve ever seen. “She was my decoy. She pretended to be me so that I wasn’t hurt.” 

_ Like I did. _

“Of course, she didn’t do it quite like you did,” she quips. “But all my handmaidens look like me, even if it’s only one thing. Usually the eyes.” 

I sit down on the bed right next to her. 

Padmé turns to me, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. 

“I’m actually short a few handmaidens,” she mentions. “I suppose I should fill the missing positions.” 

_ She’s not really going to ask me this, is she? _

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Padmé says. “And I don’t want to ask something of you that I don’t deserve.” 

I’m just going to let her speak. If I say something right now, she may get the wrong impression of me. 

“We haven’t known each other very long,” Padmé says, grabbing my hand gently. “And I know that we haven’t. But I have this trust in you I can’t explain. You displayed selflessness that most people can’t even imagine of. You gave yourself ups in the hopes that someone else could live. In the hopes that democracy could live.

“I want you to be my handmaiden. You don’t necessarily bear any resemblance to me, but someone like you would help me in ways you can’t even imagine. I would never ask you to be my decoy. In all honesty, I’m offering you this position because I know that you aren’t quite ready to face the galaxy on your own just yet,” Padmé confesses. 

She’s completely right. I’m not ready. I can lie to myself all I want and all I need to, but nothing can change the inevitable truth that I am not ready to be by myself quite yet. 

The door opens and Dormé walks in, a box in her arms. 

“Take as much time as you need to think about it,” Padmé says, standing up. She walks over to Dormé and bows her head, then leaves. Dormé places the box right next to me and then leaves as well. 

The door shuts, and I am left to myself. 

~

_ It’s beautiful. Nature… and someone I love.  _

_ I feel their hand press against my cheek in the soft, warm sunlight. I feel them place a small kiss onto my forehead. I hear the sounds of birds chirping and a nearby stream trickling down the stones.  _

_ I’m running with them, holding their hand. I know I am safe in their presence, and I know that I’ll never have to leave their arms.  _

_ They whisper a fragment of my name into my ear, and I can feel their cheeks pressed up against mine.  _

_ I watch the sun go down, and I watch as the moon--  _

I wake up. 

The dream that I had during last night’s sleep still haunts me. It’s like a forgotten memory, yet it feels like something I haven’t experienced yet.

I continue to think about the dream before I receive a knock on my temporary bedroom door from someone quite desperate to get in. 

I press the button on the side of the wall and the door opens. My mystery visitor is revealed as none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

A little bit shocked, I gesture for him to come in. 

Because my temporary bedroom is rather modest, the only place he can sit down on is right on the bed. 

However, he remains standing. 

“No, feel free to sit,” he says. “Don’t let my standing bother you.” 

I nod, and sit down as I’ve been instructed to do so. 

Obi-Wan crosses his arms. 

“Anakin hasn’t told me how exactly you ended up impersonating a Senator yet,” Obi-Wan relents. “I have a feeling that you might be more inclined to tell the truth than he is.” 

“I was kidnapped by the same Tusken Raiders who abducted his mother,” I respond. There’s no need or want to lie to this man. However, he doesn’t need to know all the details. 

“On Tatooine?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Is there a reason Anakin chose to take you?” Though his words suggest one thing, I can sense his intentions, and it’s not to ostracize me. It’s to find out about Anakin. 

I shrug. “I was relatively close to where he found his mother. Maybe he saw me and decided to rescue me from the horrors that killed someone he loved.” 

I’ve never really used the word “killed” before. It just feels wrong rolling off my tongue. 

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan mutters. His head perks up and he smiles. “Are you Padmé’s new handmaiden?” 

I shake my head before realizing that I can’t just say yes or no to that question.

“Yes and no,” I say. “Padmé asked me to be one, but I don’t know what I’m going to say yet.” 

Obi-Wan nods. “You’d do very well at it.” 

_ I would? _

“You’d be able to experience Coruscant at a distance,” Obi-Wan offers. “You’d make friends.” 

“I’m not ready to give up my freedom,” I retort. 

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows. “I think that if you’re making the decision yourself, then your freedom isn’t broken. It may be downsized, but it’s there nonetheless.” 

He leaves before I can utter even a single syllable. 

_ This was perhaps the greatest moment of Anakin Skywalker’s life.  _

_ He was being knighted.  _

_ He didn’t have to face the Trials after all. Just like Obi-Wan said.  _

_ It actually went over rather quickly, as Anakin found that being knighted without facing the Trials is simple.  _

_ Anakin had seen the girl right before he went to the Jedi temples.  _

_ She was unconscious, sleeping. She looked almost happy while she slept. It was a kind of peace Anakin could only wish for.  _

_ He wanted to kiss her forehead before he left, but Padmé was watching over her like a hawk.  _

_ So instead, Anakin used the Force to reach out and feel a tendril of her hair.  _

_ It was soft, just like he thought it would be. It was strong too, like hair that wouldn’t break at the first sign of danger.  _

_ Just like her.  _

_Anakin left before Padmé noticed what he was doing._ _  
__While he was being knighted, Anakin tried his best to keep his thoughts on one thing. As his Padawan braid was cut off, he was reminded of the girl’s hair. As he stood up, he was reminded of how tall the girl truly seemed._

_ That night, Anakin Skywalker slept for the first time since before he journeyed to Tatooine to rescue his mother.  _

_ And he only dreamed about the girl. _


	7. The Naboo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, the chapters are going to start getting longer. Apologize, but things are also going to start getting more interesting :)

**chapter 7**

_ I’m back in the beautiful place. This time, I can see the shadow of my body next to theirs. I seem small compared to them. They’re holding my hand so tightly I think they’ll never let go. I don’t want them to let go. I want them to protect me forever.  _

But they can’t, because I wake up.

A single tear drips down my cheek. 

Surprised, I swipe it off of my face with my finger and stare at the tiny droplet of salty water. 

The tear stares back at me, longing to be released. That one single drop is sadder than anything I’ve ever seen. 

I don’t have too long to stare at the tear, because I hear a knock on my door. Instead of going to open it, it opens by itself to reveal Padmé, standing with a tray of food. 

“Are you hungry?” She asks warmly. Everything about her is warm, which is comforting against the cold that is Coruscant. 

I shake my head. To be truthful, I’m still full from whatever I received from the med facility. If I focus intensely on my stomach, I can feel it start to get hungry. I don’t want anything from Padmé. At least, anything that I haven’t earned. 

“Padmé, I’ve thought about it,” I say abruptly. She places the tray down onto the desk, besides the box Dormé left there previously. Immediately, she sits down onto the bed and waits for my answer. 

“I have an immense trust in you, Padmé,” I reveal. “I don’t quite understand it, but I believe in it. I want to help you, Padmé. In any way I can.” 

I can feel her joy from across the bed. Having no idea why such joy would come from my answer, I wait for hers. 

Padmé nods, her coils bouncing. “I think you’re making the right decision. And not because it’s what I want you to do, but because it’s one you’ve made yourself. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but you’re an indecisive person when it comes to yourself.” 

She’s not wrong. In fact, she’s completely right. When it comes to other people, I know I can do the right thing by them. But what is the right thing when it comes to me? Am I supposed to do something to make myself happy or am I supposed to make a smart, calculated decision?

Padmé leans in to hug me, and I don’t pull away or stop it. I let it happen because I know that she’s the only person I’ll ever want to hug me. 

“You’ll have to come up with a name for yourself,” Padmé says into my hair. “Typically, my handmaidens have names that sound similar to mine, but if you want to opt out from that, I understand.” 

I nod yes and pull away from the hug. 

“It’s good you made the decision already, you know,” Padmé beams. “We’re going to my home today.” 

~

While I get ready and dressed in the Nabooian handmaiden attire, I’m shown images of Naboo by Dormé. She’s smiling, proud of her native planet. She has a right to be proud. It’s very beautiful. 

Dormé shows me how to do my hair and makeup-- neither of which I’m used to doing. Today, my makeup is to serve only one purpose: to look as much like Padmé as I can. 

I still don the stone Anakin gave me. Although it’s hidden beneath my handmaiden robes, I can feel it against my breast. 

When we’re done, Dormé leads me to a veranda of sorts, and we sit down. 

“Where’s Padmé?” I ask, looking out into the landscape of Coruscant.   
“She’s in a Senate meeting,” Dormé responds. “Normally, we don’t go to those.”

“By herself?” 

Dormé looks at me out of the side of her eyes. “No, with Naboo guards.” 

“Oh, sorry,” I murmur. I didn’t expect Dormé to act this way. 

“Have you chosen a name yet?” Dormé asks. 

I don’t want to tell her no and disappoint her. I rack my brain for names that sound like Padmé’s, and one abruptly pops into my head.   
“Yes,” I answer. “I’ve chosen Jé.” 

It’s pronounced like  _ jey. _ I don’t know why I thought of it, and I definitely don’t know why I said I chose it, but I like it nonetheless. 

Dormé doesn’t respond, instead choosing to silently view the surroundings. 

We sit there until I hear a beeping noise, and Dormé speedily walks to the lobby. She stops for a second and gestures for me to follow. I do as she says. 

It’s good that I’m both quick on my feet and have a good amount of stamina, because otherwise I’d probably be on the floor. When I said Dormé walked, I really mean ran. 

We run all the way into the lobby, where Padmé and four Nabooian guards are standing. 

“Milady, she’s chosen a name for herself,” Dormé says, bowing her head. Following her lead, I do the same. 

Is it really a name? I was, after all, prompted to choose it, so it might not necessarily be mine. It’s also a handmaiden’s name, which isn’t what I would consider myself. Even though I am a handmaiden now, it doesn’t really feel like it. 

Padmé grins. “What is it?” 

I go to say it but Dormé’s faster. 

“Jé, milady,” Dormé informs her. 

That should make me mad, the fact that Dormé was the one to tell Padmé my handmaiden name. But it doesn’t, and I have neither an explanation or a clue as to why. In fact, I prefer that Dormé was the one to say it. It makes it less official, less permanent. If I never say  _ my name is Jé _ , then it never will be. Already, I have distaste for a name, even though it’s one I chose myself. I’ve been given the chance to have a choice, but it doesn’t feel like mine. Nothing feels real anymore. 

I shouldn’t feel like this. My old, hindered life is over. I don’t have to worry about anyone touching me without my consent anymore. I don’t have to spend restless nights worrying about what’s going to happen to me. I feel sadder than I did before. Before, I knew my fate. I knew exactly what was-- or what I thought was-- going to happen to me. I’d accepted it. I don’t know the future that lies ahead of me, and to be frank, it scares me. It’s not an anxious type of scared but a different type. It’s not something I can describe. The tear that I swept off of my face this morning describes the feeling exactly. But why was I crying? I made a decision, a promise to myself, that I wasn’t going to cry until I knew what was going to happen to me. When I was enslaved, I cried often and hard, because I knew that I had a good reason for it. Is something bad going to happen to me? Is that why I was crying? Or was it because of the dream, of the beautiful dream that will haunt me for the rest of my life? I have no idea. That also scares me. Not knowing something bothers me. If I had just run away like I wanted to on the farm on Tatooine, I wouldn’t feel like this. I wouldn’t feel as helpless as I do. 

It’s not Anakin’s fault, however. As much as I would like to place the blame on somebody, it’s not his fault I feel this way. He’s done what’s right for me. He hasn’t been selfish or cruel. I can’t hold anything against him because he doesn’t deserve that. 

I’m entirely ungrateful, I think. He saved my life in so many ways, yet I think about death. It’s a mean joke. It’s mean and it’s entirely unfunny. If I died, Anakin’s efforts would have been for nothing. 

But who would miss me if I died? Who would  _ genuinely _ miss me? I have no family, no friends. I don’t count Padmé as a friend; she feels bad for me, and I don’t count pity friendships. Dormé isn’t my friend, that’s for sure. I don’t know why she slightly dislikes me, but it’s nothing to dwell over. I don’t think Anakin’s my friend. I also know that Obi-Wan’s not my friend. It’s only because we’ve had so little encounters.

I should probably stop thinking about death now. 

“I like it,” Padmé says, smiling. 

If Padmé likes it, then it’s not a bad name. Then I haven’t made a bad decision. 

“Come on,” Padmé asserted, linking her arm around mine. “We’ve got a ship to catch.” 

~

I don’t get the chance to fully see Coruscant, because the ship depot we travel to is only a few minutes away from Padmé’s apartment. 

Though the ship is plated in the same shiny chromium as the one we left Tatooine in, it’s a different model. This one is larger, and more functional as opposed to leisurely. 

Dormé doesn’t say a word to me as we board the ship. I take cues here and there, understanding that I have to help transport Padmé’s luggage. 

“How long are we staying?” I ask, my voice lilting. I keep my expression blank in fear that someone–– Dormé–– will be analyzing it. 

“Around a month in G.S.T.” 

So, a month on Coruscant. That’s not bad. From what I’ve seen, an hour on Naboo would be better than a month anywhere else. 

“Hey,” Dormé says, pulling me aside. She grabs the edge of my shirt and tugs it hard. “Don’t be an embarrassment. All eyes will be on milady as soon as we step foot on the planet. That means they’re on you too. And on me.

“This is my home, and hers too.  _ Don’t  _ ruin it,” Dormé orders. 

I wasn’t planning on ruining it. I wasn’t planning to be an embarrassment, either. 

Out of all the people in the galaxy to show me kindness, it had to be the one with a judgemental, rude handmaiden. 

Dormé shows no kindness towards me as she urges me towards my seat. 

I don’t want to sleep. I want to scream, to shout. I want to kick things over and make a gigantic mess. 

Those feelings stay internal. If they stay internal, then they’re not as real. If I don’t act on them, then it’ll be easier for them to bubble away. 

I think. 

The weird thing is that I’ve never felt anger like this before. I’ve been angry, sure, but not in this manner. Not in a violent manner. 

I don’t pay attention to where we are, but instead go to the restroom on the ship. 

In it, is Padmé. 

She’s taking pills of some sort, but I don’t know what. 

Padmé smiles at me and glances back at the pills.   
“They’re suppressants,” she goes. “For my period.” 

I am silent. 

“Do you need any, by the way?” Padmé asks, putting the suppressants back into a small black pouch. 

“No,” I respond, my voice small. 

Padmé’s eyes widen. 

“Because of malnutrition,” I lie, trying to make Padmé’s eyes go back to normal. 

She nods, and leaves the bathroom. 

I look in the mirror. The features that I grew up with, the ones that I’m used to, don’t feel right anymore. My nose, my lips, my eyes.  _ Especially _ my eyes. 

I used to think I was beautiful. It explained why an innocent girl had her life taken away. 

Now that I have my life, I don’t feel beautiful. Or at least, my definition of the word.

Beautiful is something other people use to describe you. Beautiful is something you don’t feel, you look at. You stare at beautiful in the mirror. It’s a theory, a concept. 

I don’t see it in the mirror. 

Exiting the bathroom, I gave myself one more look in the mirror, only to find nothing had changed. 

~

Traveling in hyperspace for the second time–– consciously, at least–– proves easier than the first. 

When we leave hyperspace, I get an image of Naboo. 

Just from the view out of the ship window, it’s as beautiful as the images. Swampy lakes and grass plains make up the terrain, and I can even see the faint outlines of towns and villages. 

Compared to the planets I’ve seen, Naboo is a heaven. 

I feel someone come up behind me and link their arm with mine. I don’t even have to look, but I know it’s Padmé. 

“I’m so excited to show you around,” Padmé gleefully says. Her voice is perky, elevated in tone.   
“I’m excited to finally be on a planet with some water,” I respond, trying to lighten the mood from earlier. 

Padmé laughs, her head thrown back. “I really like you.” 

My cheeks flush with crimson, and I bite my lip. 

“I like you too,” I say, then I remember what has to come after it. “Milady.” 

“You don’t have to call me that,”  Padmé says gently. “Padmé is fine.”

I nod, knowing I still have to call her “milady” anyways. As much as I would like to just call her Padmé, my newfound position restricts that. I’m not her friend, I’m her handmaiden. 

We land in a large city near cliffs and waterfalls, and I go to carry Padmé’s luggage. 

As I’m carrying around four suitcases, I feel a tap on my shoulder and someone lifting the bags out of my arms. 

“I can carry them,” the person says. It’s a Nabooian guard around my age. He’s blonde with brown eyes and a muscular build. He smiles at me, a helpful look in his eyes. 

“Thank you,” I murmur. 

Instead of only taking one or two bags, he takes all four of them. 

“I can hold at least one,” I offer. 

“It’s fine,” the guard says, grinning. “Got to put these strong arms to use.” 

He’s confident and a little bit cocky, but it’s weirdly attractive. 

“I’m Buwel,” he announces, walking alongside me. 

“I’m, um,” I stutter, “um, J.” 

J isn’t my name. It’s not even my handmaiden name, but introducing myself as Jé feels inappropriate. 

“Hi, J,” Bowel enunciates. He winks at me, giving me a weird sensation in my stomach. Like birds, or beautiful insects with papery wings. 

What’s the name for those? I know them, I can paint an image of them in my mind, but there’s no word for it. 

They were in my dream. There were hundreds of them flocking across the orange and pink sky. 

I can’t remember anything of my childhood. Nothing. I remember being on Tatooine, but nothing before that. 

Something is very, very wrong with me. 

I just now realize that. 

I need to fix myself, but I don’t know how. How can I fix myself when I don’t even really know what/where the problem is? 

I know it lies with me. All problems lie with me. They sleep with me at night and they wake up with me in the morning. 

Why do I hate myself this much? It feels like I’m drowning, and no one is trying to lift me out of the water. They try, but only with small sticks, never their own hand. 

Buwel says things to me, asks me things, but I don’t answer. No, I’m too deep in thought to answer his questions. 

The Naboo air is warm and moist, which makes sense because of all the swamps I saw. It’s kind of suffocating, but I imagine I’ll get used to it fast. Luckily, because of the hot temperatures on Tatooine, I’m not that hot. However, it’s humid. I can feel sweat dripping on my lower back and down my thighs. The robes I’m wearing aren’t helping either. 

Everyone else seems used to it. Dormé isn’t sweating at all, and Padmé’s wearing a light pink-colored dress. 

“It’s summer here,” Buwel says. 

I look at him in confusion. 

“It’s the hottest season,” he explains. 

I’m still visibly confused. 

“God! Do you not have seasons on your planet?” 

There are no seasons on Tatooine. There’s only hot and dry, and they usually coexist. 

The word summer sounds familiar but I don’t know where I’ve heard it before. Probably from other people. 

Theed, the capital city, is beautiful. There’s green vines everywhere. They snake up the buildings and around sculptures, like someone trying to hold the city together with green rope. 

I follow Padmé, who leads us to a small land speeder. Only around five people can fit on it. Luckily, there are only five people who need to: me, Padmé, Dormé, and two soldiers, including Buwel. However, we’re ushered in and smushed together, leaving me with no personal space. 

It’s extremely uncomfortable. I try to stay as far away from Dormé as I can, but I just end up pressing into Buwel. I’m not trying to give him the wrong idea, but it comes off as me getting as close to him as I can. 

We ride until we get to the palace, where around twenty guards are waiting for us. Slowly, I step off the speeder, trying not to trip. Thankfully, I don’t, but I’ve fallen behind the pack. 

I run, trying to catch up, but instead I fall, causing my robes to rip and my knee to get slammed into the ground. 

That’s gonna be one hell of a bruise. 

“Are you okay?” An older woman asks me, helping me to my feet. 

“Yes,” I answer, despite not really being okay. I’ve become such a liar. 

The woman has a baby on her hip. The baby has red hair, brown eyes, and no teeth. Though the baby is objectively cute, it reminds me of something I don’t want to think about. 

“Thank you,” I tell the woman before continuing to run and catch up with Padmé. 

I don’t fall this time. Though I make a fool of myself, my feet remain solid on the ground. 

“Where have you been?” Dormé reprimands, her eyes staring daggers. 

“I, um, I don’t know,” I respond.

Dormé raises her right eyebrow. “Stay with the group,” she says. 

I nod, keeping my head down.

We walk along a large pavilion, my feet making clicky noises on the stones. There’s archways everywhere. 

I can tell we’ve reached the palace because of how genuinely large it is. It’s asymmetrical in design and has a bunch of different buildings composing it. 

It’s beautiful. Unconventional, but beautiful. 

We keep walking until we reach the throne room. The queen sits on her throne, regal and calm. 

“Your majesty,” Padmé says before bowing her head. Following her and Dormé, I do the same. 

“Senator,” the queen says back. “It’s a shame to only have you back under such unfortunate circumstances.” 

Padmé smiles, her head slowly rising back up to its natural position. She sits down in a chair next to the throne, placing her hands in her lap one over the other. 

“It’s war, your majesty,” Padmé says softly. “It wasn’t even put to a vote. They captured two Jedi knights and attempted to execute me, committing treason. The anti-war act did nothing in the end.” 

“Sad is the word. Sad for the Republic, and sad for the Separatists who only wanted to negotiate,” the queen remarks. 

“I will keep fighting the war and unnecessary bloodshed,” Padmé states. “Though the Separatists are using droid armies, there are innocent people who have been caught in their clutches.” 

I feel sick to my stomach. 

The queen nodded. “The people and the government of Naboo fully support you in your efforts, even now.” 

I hear Padmé let out a small sigh. 

“Now, I suppose you want to see your family?” 

~

Padmé’s house is nestled in a neighborhood of Theed, almost hidden away. Though four guards accompany us on the way, they surround the perimeter of the entrance to the house. 

“Come on,” Padmé calls, taking my hand. 

She leads me inside the house, and I see two women that look like Padmé standing near a fireplace. One is older than the other one, I can tell. 

“Sabé!” Padmé exclaims, running towards the younger girl. She hugs the girl, who nearly lifts her off of her feet. 

“This is Sabé,” Padmé introduces. 

“Hi,” Sabé says, smiling at me. 

“Sabé was one of my first handmaidens, and one of my first friends,” Padmé explains. “Sabé, this is Jé, she’s the newest handmaiden.” 

I nod. “Hi.” 

~

When the month is up, and I’ve met almost all of Padmé’s family, I give a goodbye to the best month of my life. 

My handmaiden duties were, for the most part, forgotten about by everyone. 

When I get back to Coruscant, someone is waiting at Padmé’s apartment. 

It’s Obi-Wan. 

He pulls me aside.

“Can I speak to you?” 

I look at Padmé, who nods her head. 

“Yes,” I respond. 

He pulls me into my own bedroom. 

I sit down on the bed, confused. 

“I have some information about you,” Obi-Wan says. “I figured you might want to know.” 

I’m silent. 

“You lived on Tatooine, correct?” 

I nod. 

“And you were a slave?” 

I nod again, my hands starting to shake. 

“I uncovered that you weren’t an ordinary slave. You were a sex slave. Your only purpose was to please your owner, however they chose.” 

My stomach is in knots. 

“Can you please leave?” I ask. 

Obi-Wan blinks. 

“ _ Leave _ ,” I repeat. “Please.” 

He does as I say. 

  
  


_ Anakin Skywalker hadn’t seen the girl in a month. When Obi-Wan had informed him that she was now Padmé’s handmaiden, he felt angry, worried. She was now Jé.  _

_ He refused to accept that. In Padmé’s presence, the girl would never be safe. She was prone to accidents, attacks.  _

_ He swallowed his worries.  _

_ Anakin Skywalker found that they kept coming back. _


	8. The Senate

**chapter 8**

I don’t want to be reminded of my past. 

Who does he think he is? Barging into a place that isn’t his and telling me things I already knew but wanted to forget? 

Asshole. Absolute asshole. 

Did he think I didn’t know? Or worse, did he know I remembered and just wanted to be cruel? 

I don’t have time to think about that. 

Dormé knocks on my door before it slides open. 

“Senate meeting in thirty minutes,” she says, looking down at me. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” I immediately respond. 

Dormé leaves, and I pull a pair of dark blue robes out of my closet. It doesn’t take long to put them on, but it’s a struggle nonetheless. 

My entire body is shaking. 

I tie my hair, which has almost reached my butt, back in a braided bun. I lift the hood of my robes up over my head and run to Padmé’s bedroom and help her get ready. 

I’ve taken on the role of doing her hair. Dormé does her makeup and Padmé can choose and put on her outfits herself. 

I intricately braid her hair and tie it back into a golden headpiece. The headpiece looks like a five-pointed star, and I wrap her hair around each of the points. 

I think I did a pretty good job. 

“Today, you’re going to go with me to the Senate meeting. It’s an important vote so I need people to be with me,” Padmé says. 

“What’s the vote about?” I ask, not thinking about my words. 

Dormé glares at me. 

Padmé sighs. “Whether or not the Republic will treat neutral systems as Separatist sympathizers,” she answers. 

“But they’re neutral,” I say. 

“Exactly,” Padmé agrees. “Myself and a couple other Senators oppose the act, but there are plenty of Senators who do not.”

“There’s a lie in the Republic that if you do not stand with us, you are against us,” Padmé expresses. 

“It makes no sense.” 

~

The Senate Chambers have to be some of the largest buildings I’ve ever seen. 

I keep my head down in fear I might trip and fall to my death. It’s not that effective for making sure I don’t bump into people, but that’s not a life-or-death situation. 

After my month on Naboo, I’m less suicidal. It irks me to remember the thoughts I had, knowing that I had nothing stopping me from committing the deed.

When we get to Padmé’s seats, I check her hair to make sure it hasn’t fallen out or become sloppy. She’s wearing high-heeled boots that made her nearly half a foot taller, so I check her hair with great difficulty. 

“Wait out here with the guards until the meeting is over,” Padmé instructs. “You can listen in through the earpieces.” 

I retrieve my earpiece from my pocket and slip it inside my ear canal. It’s extremely noise canceling. I can’t hear anything out of my left ear. 

I sit down, quite literally twiddling my thumbs. Dormé stands next to one of the guards, a tall young man with dark skin and coily hair. I can sense a tension between them, maybe an attraction never addressed. 

Slowly, and very discreetly, Dormé brushes against the guard. 

She gets as close to him as humanly possible, to the point where it’s not discreet anymore. 

“Dormé,” I call. 

Dormé looks at me with a troubled look on her face. She comes close, and sits down next to me on the bench. 

“Who is he?” I whisper. 

Her face lights up with worry, but it soon turns into anger. 

“You’re not telling anyone anything,” she hisses. 

“I wasn’t going to,” I say simply. Her face shifts back to neutrality. 

“His name is Mhert,” she says, looking back towards him. 

I nod. “Why were you getting so cozy with him?” 

“You can’t tell anyone. Especially Padmé,” Dormé warns. “I’ve been seeing him since I was a teenager.” 

I’m a teenager, I think. I don’t know when my birthday is, so I might not even be one anymore.

“Why can’t I tell anyone?” I ask. 

“Because on Naboo, you can’t be intimate with your partner until you’ve received a blessing from the Goddess of Safety,” Dormé blurts. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.” 

I shrug my shoulders, thinking of the most optimistic thing to say. “I think that being intimate with your partner is the ultimate danger, because it could end any way. I think you need to then have the ultimate trust in your partner. If you’re seeking external validation from a deity, then perhaps you don’t really  _ have _ the ultimate trust in your partner,” I say rather wisely. 

Dormé nods, on the verge of tears. “You’re right.” 

“I’m not usually, just so you know,” I respond. 

“Oh, I know,” Dormé quips, smiling at me. 

“I suppose I should share a personal secret of mine now that you’ve shared one of yours,” I remark. I know what I’m about to say and I know that it’ll hurt to say it out loud. 

“Back on Tatooine, I was a slave. I assume you know that,” I say. “But they had to… prepare me for purchase. And they made me, um. They made me barren.” 

“So I don’t and never will have a period, and I never will have children,” I shared. 

Obi-Wan’s rather crude words made me realize that my time on Tatooine has a larger effect on me than I think. I thought I was fine, but it’s clear to me now that I’m not, and I never will be. 

~

When the meeting is over, I can hear a large commotion. Underneath all of it, is Padmé’s voice shouting at us. 

I spot her thanks to her new height and her large headpiece. 

She’s standing next to an older man with grey hair and a small smile. He’s about her height, at least with the boots. 

As I make my way over to her through the crowd, I am faced with uncomfort and anxiety. I don’t do so well with such large amounts of people like this. I don’t know where this anxiety came from, but I know that it is apparent and strong. 

“How did it go?” I ask when I reach Padmé. 

She looks at me, hope in her eyes. “It was a tie. We’re voting again on it tomorrow but I think there’s a chance of overturning it.” 

I smile. If Padmé has hope, so do I. 

“This is Supreme Chancellor Palpatine,” Padmé says, gesturing to the man standing next to her. 

I lower my head in respect. 

“This is my handmaiden, Jé,” Padmé says, now gesturing to me. 

“Senator Amidala informed me of your brave efforts on Geonosis,” the Supreme Chancellor says, grinning. “You’d make a wonderful soldier.” 

I nod, knowing that I would probably be an awful soldier. “Thank you, sir.” 

Dormé comes up behind me and stands to the side of Padmé. “Milady, we have to leave now. For your safety.” 

Padmé nods, and turns to glance at the Supreme Chancellor and starts walking away. 

I start walking with her, keeping my head down. But before we exit the Senate chambers, I turn around to look at the Supreme Chancellor once more. 

It may have been a problem with my eyes. Maybe. 

But as I turn around and look at him, he is pale and deformed, like a monster that has finally seen the sun. 

~

As we get back to the apartment, I take off my robes and switch them out for a far more comfortable ensemble. Padmé has a slow night tonight, and so I have an opportunity to relax. 

I look at my body in the mirror. It’s finally mine, but it’s not the one I want. I used to be thin, small. Now I’m irrevocably fat. 

After the plentiful food on Naboo and the supplements I’ve been taking every day, my body has fully recovered from its malnutrition. My body doesn’t feel brittle anymore, it feels vivacious and strong. 

I don’t think I need to take those supplements anymore. 

A knock on my door. It’s a gentle, soft knock, almost like a tap. 

The door doesn’t open on its own, so I have to press the button on the wall beside it so it can slide open. 

It’s Padmé. She’s wearing a fuzzy pajama set that’s a particular shade of chartreuse. They hug her curves loosely but comfortably, and I can tell how soft they are just by looking at them. 

“Do you wanna talk?” Padmé asks, gently smiling. “I want to talk, if that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah, that’s alright,” I answer. She takes my hand and leads me to her bedroom. 

“You can sit down on the bed,” Padmé says. She looks out of the windows, and then shuts the door. 

“Are you okay?” I ask, hoping I’m not in trouble for one thing or another. 

“Yes,” she responds. “I am. I just wanted to check in on you.” 

I narrow my eyes, slightly suspicious. I haven’t been showing signs of upset. 

Padmé sighs, standing in front of me. 

“Dormé told me why you didn’t need suppressants,” Padmé says softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

I look at her, surprised. Even though Dormé told my secret, I don’t have plans on telling hers. 

“I don’t know,” I say softly. “I didn’t want to worry you.” 

“Darling, you had me worried already. I was trying to give you as much food as possible because I thought your malnutrition was that bad,” Padmé enunciated. She looks at me, her brown eyes softer than ever. 

“On that note, I don’t think I need to take supplements anymore,” I add, trying to change the subject. 

“Don’t change the subject,” she says. 

Shit. 

“Listen. Whatever you’re struggling with, I want you to know you can trust me,” Padmé offered. “I’m not a stranger.” 

“I know,” I mumbled. 

“Okay,” Padmé says, letting out a short breath. “Let’s talk.” 

~

I talk with Padmé about everything, from food to weather to my life on Tatooine. 

I tell her everything. I don’t leave out a single detail, at least from what I can remember. 

I watch as her face shifts from pleasantness to horror as I recount the events of my life. I tell her of my handler, of my potential buyers. I tell her of the abuse that I’ve suffered, and when I’m done, I show her my brand. 

It’s small, barely noticeable, and it’s on my left hip. It’s two interconnected symbols, one meaning “property of” and the other the name of my former handler. There is space, however, left for someone else’s name. I hope to never fill it. 

She doesn’t say anything after that, so I leave to go to bed. 

And that night, I dream of the beautiful place.  _ My _ beautiful place. 

_ I can see who I’m with. But somehow, it’s me. I’m running, hopping and skipping, mimicking the movements of the butterflies around me. My hair is cut short, just below my chin.  _

_ I’m holding my hand. I feel the warm sunlight on my cheeks and the fresh relief of the cool breeze.  _

_ There are thousands of the little creatures with papery wings. They flock across the skies, following the sunset. I feel a gentle touch on the back of my head, and someone caressing my hair.  _

_ They/me leans in, ready to declare their undying and unconditional love for me. It’s pure, like a flower in its first bloom.  _

_ I smile, knowing that I’ll never have to worry about being unloved when I’m with them. They will love me till the day they die, and then they will love me more.  _

_ And they say something, something in a language I understand. It’s a beautiful language, one that embodies the place in a way any other language could not. They’re talking to me. They’re saying they love me, that I am _ \--

I’m really tired of getting interrupted while I’m dreaming. 

A few weeks go by, and I don’t dream of the beautiful place again. 

It’s sad. It makes me unbearably sad. Most of my happiness comes from the idyllic moments that are my dreams, and to not have those is heartbreaking. It’s unbearable. 

Nothing important in my life happens. Padmé, however, has important votes and meetings. Each time she has something that needs getting ready for, I help her get ready. At this point, I’m not only doing her hair, but her makeup too. 

Maybe one day I’ll learn how to do it on myself. 

  
  


_ Anakin looked down at his arm made of flesh, and thanked the stars it wasn’t metal.  _

_ If the girl hadn’t been there at Geonosis, it would have been metal.  _

_ A clone whose name was unknown to Anakin had a metal arm, and it looked incredibly difficult to work with.  _

_ Everything lucky in Anakin’s life came from the girl.  _

_ But he hadn’t seen her in so long. His luck might have started to run out by now.  _

_ He received second-hand luck, however, from Obi-Wan, who saw her frequently.  _

_ “Is she okay?” he asked anxiously.  _

_ “Well, she’s certainly not lying,” Obi-Wan remarked. “She seemed rather traumatized when I brought up her past life.”  _

_ “Why would you traumatize her like that?” Anakin questioned, anger bubbling up in him.  _

_ Obi-Wan looked at Anakin knowingly. “I needed to see if she was being honest.” _

_“What reason would she have to lie?” Anakin challenged._ _  
__“Oh, I don’t know, maybe she wanted to kill us,” Obi-Wan responded snootily._

_ “If she wanted to kill us, she had plenty of opportunity on Geonosis,” Anakin said. His _

_ anger was rising, higher and higher. _

_ “I wasn’t the one questioning her.”  _

_ “The Jedi council?”  _

_ “They gave me orders to find out as much as I could about her.” _

_ “Do they think she’s a threat?”  _

_ Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH!! thank you guys so much for 500 hits!! what?! i never thought i'd reach 100, so thank you so so so much!! i hope you love this story as much as i do!! much love, the author <3


	9. A Small Update from the Author

dear readers (if there are any), i'd like you to know that i'm currently storyboarding the rest of the book as well as its sequel. you may have seen that this work is part of a series, so i hope it's not a shock that this work will not be the final one. 

this story isn't just fanfiction. well it is, but it's also more than that. i've created an entire world in my head, and i know the exact direction this is going in. this isn't just a love story–– it's a story about internal struggle, about self-discovery. tell me if i sound pretentious, but i've developed an attachment to "the girl" that is otherworldly. it's an honor to tell her story and a privilege to have the power to control her destiny. 

big things coming soon. right not it's not particularly smutty, but this is incredibly slow-burn. i want the readers to beg for a single kiss, so nothing especially sensual will be on its way quite yet. 

also, to the 5 people that have bookmarked this–– thank you. thank you for even taking the time to look at this. you're who i'm writing this for. and please, don't be shy about leaving comments. though i do have to approve them, i do see them, and i will take the time to respond to any questions you might have (at least the ones that don't revolve around major plot points.)

thank you, i love you, and have a great day, night, afternoon, and lifetime. 

–– with much love xx, the author


End file.
